Of the Lions and the Lambs
by Fireboltpatronus21818
Summary: AU: What if Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling moved into number two, Privet Drive? Rated M, just because I don't feel like changing it later if need be. Chap. 6 up
1. The Boy Who Lived

**Disclaimer: Everything in here belongs to J.K. Rowling and Thomas Harris. Let them fight over what's what.**

**A/N: **

**This idea popped into my head and I just couldn't let it rest. Personally, I'm not too fond of crossovers, but somehow this seemed right, or at least fun. It's not something I plan to continue, but another chapter wouldn't be out of the question. It's based on the fact that Clarice, Hannibal and Harry are orphans and that the Dursleys are **_**rude **_**so to say. Now what would happen if Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling moved into Privet Drive number 2? This chapter doesn't answer that question, but it does provide an idea of how that story would be told.**

**I know the timeline is wrong. **

**This is 1981, and Lecter is still in the asylum. Buuuuut not in this story… live with it. And for some reason Clarice went with him after Memphis, which happened three years before it should(thus implying that they've lived at Privet Drive for a year, since 1980), but just imagine her the same age. This is fiction, right?**

**This is purely me having fun.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter One

The Boy Who Lived

Dr. and Mrs. Fell, of number two, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or murderous, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Dr. Fell was a doctor at the local hospital, which dealt with emergencies. He was a small, wiry man with a completely normal face, although he did have some very eerie eyes. Mrs. Fell was thin and petite and had very normal eyes, which came in very useful as she spent much of her time looking out for suspicious behavior, spying on the neighbours. The Dursleys next door had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no boy more spoiled anywhere.

The Fells had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think that they could bear it if anyone found out about the FBI. Mrs. Fell was a former trainee there, but they hadn't been in contact in a year; in fact, Mrs. Fell pretended that she didn't have anything to do with the FBI, because the agency and their good-for-nothing system were as unFellish as it was possible to be. The Fells shuddered to think what would happen if the FBI arrived in the street. The Fells knew that the FBI had a grudge, too, and they had felt it. This grudge was another good reason to keep the FBI away; they didn't want to be mixed up in something like that again.

When Dr. and Mrs. Fell woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and murderous things had happened that night. Dr. Fell hummed as he picked out his finest tie for work and Mrs. Fell cleared the table of their breakfast as she smiled happily.

They both noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window.

At half past eight, Dr. Fell picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Fell on the cheek and then proceeded to kiss her longingly on the mouth as she giggled and swatted his hands away. Dr. Fell laughed as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number two's drive.

Dr. Fell didn't pay any mind to the cat on the corner of the street as he drove to work. It was just a cat after all, but he did pause for a moment when he saw the people in capes. What the…. The FBI wouldn't be that stupid, would they now? As the morning traffic forced him to slow down, his entire frame was completely rigid and he was ready to bolt. He glanced to his left, where a group of them was gathered on the sidewalk. None of them gave him any attention as they talked animatedly amongst each other. He followed the traffic and came further and further away from them. The FBI would have followed him, wouldn't they? Yes… these people didn't seem half as dull as those paper-pushers at the Bureau.

Things at work were uneventful, except for the large number of owl attacks that seemed to have stricken town. Dr. Fell attended to them and listened to tales of swooping owls and notes tied to their legs. He recalled the owl at breakfast and wasn't at all surprised when he saw a fair few of them on his way home. It was unsettling, but there was nothing he could do about it, he thought as he pulled into the driveway of number two. Mrs. Fell saw him through the window and came hurrying out. Her brow was furrowed and Dr. Fell took her into his arms without hesitating.

"What is it dear?"

"Haven't you noticed?" She asked without raising her voice, so the neighbours wouldn't think that there was anything wrong.

"What?" He could feel his pulse rising and that was never a good sign.

"There are people in disguises. I think they planted a camera on that cat over there." Mrs. Fell nodded towards the fence of number four, where the same cat from this morning was watching them curiously.

Dr. Fell drew her away from him and smiled kindly as he looked into her eyes. Her mouth was drawn in a thin line of worry.

"Oh darling Clarice." He said. "The cat is just a cat and those people in capes are just loons in capes. I ran into them this morning and they didn't even as much as look at me or notice me. They're not here for us."

A sigh of relief escaped Mrs. Fell but she didn't quite manage to smile. Dr. Fell touched her cheek lightly in affection.

"It's just a strange day, that's all." He said with a low tone. "Did you know that we had 32 owl attacks come in at the hospital today?"

"No." She raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"There you go." He placed his arm around her shoulder as he led her inside. "A weird day is just that; weird."

Mrs. Fell didn't quite believe that and neither did the Doctor, but it put their minds at ease. After all, as long as it wasn't the FBI, it had nothing to do with them.

How very wrong he was.

They closed the door behind them and visibly relaxed as Mrs. Fell slumped down on the couch and Dr. Fell followed her after he'd discarded his jacket. She nestled against his chest and he placed his arm around her, kissing the top of her head. Dr. Fell was much older than Mrs. Fell, but no one would guess that they'd only been together for a year as they sat together in silence, watching the blank TV screen in front of them. Dr. Fell wasn't very fond of TV, but he'd found it a necessity in keeping track of current events, especially when it came to the development of the case of one Hannibal Lecter and the missing FBI trainee Clarice Starling. Half an hour almost went by like this, until Dr. Fell rose from his seat.

"I'll prepare dinner, darling."

Dr. Fell _always _prepared the dinner even though Mrs. Fell stayed at home most of the day. It had become an unsaid tradition after Mrs. Fell's first and last tragic attempt at cooking, and they both much preferred it this way. Mrs. Fell turned on the TV instead and listened to the news carefully, trying to find out if there might be anything concerning their old friends from the US. She used most of her day doing just that; skimming through newspapers, listening to the radio and watching the TV. Every morning, midday and evening she'd walk or run through the neighborhood and keep an eye out for suspicious behavior. When she wasn't doing this, she was vigorously trying to read all the books her husband assigned her, which she didn't always quite manage.

All in all, they were very happy and enjoying the bliss of being newlywed. This of course, as in so many other stories, was all about to change. It wasn't one of those changes that happened from day to day, no, it was more of a gradual change that would one day sneak up on you and you'll look back and think; _how did we get involved in this again?_

It was much later that night, when Mrs. Fell was fast asleep on her side of the bed and Dr. Fell was standing by the window that overlooked the street that he noticed something peculiar. It seemed that the cat, that had been hanging around the street all day, was still there, sitting completely still on the exact same spot where it had been sitting earlier when Mrs. Fell had insisted it was wearing a camera. His brow furrowed. Now _that _was weird.

The alarm bells didn't really go off until the lights did… literally.

One moment, the entire street was illuminated by a soft, yellow glow and the next moment, it was completely dark. Dr. Fell stood still, drawing in his breath slowly in through his teeth, creating a wheezing sound. _Clarice…_

He whirled around to the bed and dropped down beside his wife, shaking her shoulders. Her eyes blinked open and cleared up in an instant.

"Hannibal…?" A small note of drowsiness was evident as she spoke. Her eyes searched his face and saw his clenched jaw. "What's going on?"

He touched the side of her face lightly and leaned in., kissing her lips softly. "Nothing Clarice. Go back to sleep."

She hesitated, her eyes lingering on in his face, which was no longer the same that she had known when she first met him. They'd both undergone procedures to ensure their anonymity, but as their eyes locked, they knew that they'd always know each other, no matter how they looked. Mrs. Fell closed her eyes slowly, trusting her husband to know what was best. With one last kiss, he climbed off the bed and left the room silently. He'd panicked for a moment. The words that would have sent her running for their emergency suitcases had been on the tip of his tongue, but a last minute's clarity made him pause. It could have been a power shortage…

He tiptoed down the stairs bare feet and turned towards the backdoor through the kitchen instead of using the front door. It wasn't exactly cold outside, but he did feel a chill as he crept outside. Dr. Fell ignored it, moving soundlessly through his garden along the fence to number four and halting as he reached his drive. He strained his ears.

A low murmur of voices could be heard and Dr. Fell decided to move closer. The stones under his feet were cold but he didn't make a sound as he bent down, trying to avoid detection. He reached the street, crouching by the end of the hedge. They were now only two feet away, leaning against number four's garden wall and he could hear them clearly.

"That's not all." A woman's voice started. Dr. Fell could hear her distress and the thick sound of tears pressing on. "They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But… He couldn't. He couldn't kill that boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke… and that's why he's gone."

There was a moment of silence, where Dr. Fell desperately tried to repress a sigh of relief. For a moment he'd thought they were talking about him, but he hadn't killed anyone and he'd certainly not tried to kill a little boy. When they mentioned a name that definitely wasn't his, he'd had to swallow his own reaction. But then again; it could be a code name.

"It's… it's _true_?" The woman was becoming emotional and Dr. Fell vaguely wondered where the cat had gone. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't even kill a little boy? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"

"We can only guess." A man said. His voice was deep and Dr. Fell realized that these people were much older than himself. "We may never know."

There was silence again as they both composed themselves, and Dr. Fell sat completely still, holding his breath. Somehow, he knew that these people wouldn't be very keen on it, if they knew that he'd been listening in. He hadn't heard about any murders, and that was usually a matter that he followed with great enthusiasm; both out of interest and necessity.

"Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes." The woman answered. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me _why _you're here of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

Dr. Fell wasn't the only person who cringed at the notion. It seemed that the woman had the exact same notion about the neighbours as he had, and that was after only having watched them for a day. A day? How come he hadn't noticed a woman lurking around Privet Drive? The woman continued to rant about the Dursley's and their son, but the old man intervened before she could start yelling.

"It's the best place for him. His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

The woman started her rant of indignation again, and Dr. Fell raised an eyebrow as she spoke of the boy's fame. He wasn't quite sure, if this made sense, or if these people should occupy the recently emptied cell of the Baltimore Asylum. They kept talking for a while, arguing about how to raise a child, and Dr. Fell found his professional self, agreeing with the old man, who said that no child should grow up famous. They were not completely insane after all.

Dr. Fell was brought out of his musings by a loud, rumbling noise. He fell to his knees and looked down the street, trying to see the headlights of an approaching car. His eyes turned to the other side; nothing. As the rumbling became louder, it finally occurred to him, to look up, and what he saw left him speechless; a huge man, seated on a motorcycle that was heading directly towards them. He blinked. The motorcycle looked to be… flying?

The Doctor gaped, wide eyed as the motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the street in front of them. The man wasn't just big; he was huge, and in his arms he held a small bundle that Dr. Fell already knew what contained.

"Hagrid." The old man greeted. "At last. And where did you get that motorbike?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir" The giant said with a thick dialect. The old man was a professor then? Hmmm, interesting. "Young Sirius Black lent it me. I've got him, sir."

"No problems, were there?" The man called Dumbledore asked.

A few words were passed between them, and they finally stepped closer to look at the bundle, which quite correctly turned out to contain the boy. They talked quietly, but Dr. Fell was still able to make out a few words. It seemed the boy had a scar. The giant became quite emotional at one point and the doctor was surprised he hadn't woken Mrs. Fell, who was a _very _light sleeper.

Finally, after several moments of silence, it seemed that they'd agreed to leave the place. Dr. Fell could feel the pain in his knees and he knew it would be bruising in the morning, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Exchanges and goodbyes were uttered, and he picked up the name of the woman and stored it in his memory. He'd have to find out some more about these people. He saw the back of the old man as he left, walking down the street. Dr. Fell was somehow not surprised to see that he was wearing the same kind of cloak as several of the people in town had been wearing this morning. He sat completely still as the old man turned around for one last look. He lifted something into the air. A click could be heard through the silence and suddenly, all the lights were back. Then, with a pop, he was gone; vanished into thin air.

Dr. Fell blinked in surprise. He must have missed something. A lapse in his concentration surely. The old man must have turned the corner in a hurry and he'd just happened to look away. Or blink… maybe. And the lights? It must have been a coincidence, or these people somehow had contact with the higher powers at the power plant… He shook his head in defeat. This was not his day.

The Doctor felt very old as he tried to get up from the ground after sitting still on his knees, on the stones, for so long. His pushed off the ground with his hands and managed to stand up with a grunt. He really needed to go on these runs with Mrs. Fell. Spending years in an asylum had obviously not helped his physical shape. He spun his whole body and looked at number four. Now _this _was interesting.

He walked slowly around the hedge, following the garden wall, and walking up the small path to number four, eyeing the small bundle on the front step. He came closer and leaned down over the sleeping child. His small hands were curled around a letter, his head was covered in soft, raven colored hair and on his fore-head, he saw the scar that they'd talked about. It looked like a lightning bolt and the Doctor reached out his hand and touched it lightly. The boy stirred and his eyes cracked open for a small moment, revealing a bright green, before closing again.

He released his breath slowly. If the boy woke, there'd be hell and he'd be smack in the middle of it. Dr. Fell straightened up and walked away. He was quite curious to see how the Dursleys would react in the morning and he very much wanted to be awake when it happened. He retraced his steps and walked into his own garden, around the house and entered through the backdoor. He was completely soundless as he walked up the stairs and entered the bedroom.

Mrs. Fell was sitting upright in bed, holding the sheets close to her chest. Her head snapped in his direction as soon as she heard the door open. Dr. Fell saw relief pass over her face. Then her eyes landed on his knees and she raised an eyebrow.

"Hannibal… I'm all for you exercising and getting fresh air, but how does that involve dirtying your pajamas pants like that?" The undertone of worry in her voice led Dr. Fell to believe that his pajamas weren't really the issue. He went to his drawer and found a new pair.

"You won't believe what just happened…" And then Dr. Fell proceeded to tell a very unlikely tale about a giant, vanishing people and little boys left on doorsteps of estranged relatives. When he finished, he was lying beside his wife, staring at the ceiling. A moment of silence passed between them until she turned her head and asked:

"And then you just left him?"

Dr. Fell turned his head as well. "Well… what should I have done?"

"I don't know." She sighed. "It just seems wrong…"

"I know." He said, kissing the top of her head.

"The Dursleys are just so…"

"…_Rude…" _He whispered. Mrs. Fell's eyes went wide.

"Hannibal, we've talked about this…"

"Don't worry Clarice. We have a good thing going here. I wouldn't ruin it for the world." He took her hands and held them up to his mouth, kissing her knuckles one after one, staring intensely at her. She sighed in defeat and he spoke. "Harry Potter will be fine."

How very wrong they were.

**A/N: **

**I've used the name Fell instead of Clarice and Hannibal throughout the story to keep with the style in chapter one of Harry Potter, but I suppose that could change.**

**Note how the title; The Boy Who Lived, can both refer to Hannibal AND Harry.**

**This is fun, purely fun. If you think it's a ridiculous idea, then it's because it is. **


	2. L'Arroseur Arrosé

**Disclaimer: Everything in here belongs to J.K. Rowling and Thomas Harris. Let them fight over what's what.**

**A/N:**

**Thanks for the reviews guys :)**

**I'm slowly going to change the use of their names in this chapter. Instead of Mr. and Mrs. Fell, I'll start using Hannibal and Clarice.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter Two

L'Arroseur Arrosé

Nearly four years had passed since the Fells had woken up early to watch as their neighbours found their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number two on the Fell's front door; it crept into their living-room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Dr. and Mrs. Fell had sat in silence on the couch. No photographs could be seen on the mantelpiece and only the books on the shelves really showed how much time had passed. Four years ago, there had been lots of books of the most known authors and classical works through the ages – but Clarice Fell was no longer a novice reader and the walls held books which were rarely seen in bookstores and which even Doctor Hannibal Fell himself hadn't had time to read yet. The room held no sign of children at all.

Yet, the wish was still there. Clarice Fell had first asked her husband for a baby when the neighbors' small nephew has crawled through the hedge two years ago and proceeded to stick his hands into the lemonade that Dr. Fell had been drinking at the moment. But after two years of trying, they'd finally decided to see an expert in fertility. The news hadn't been good. Not only did Clarice have a bad environment, but Hannibal's seed wasn't very strong to start with and the chances of them having a child together were slim to none; it would be a miracle, as the expert had put it. Hannibal had taken a week off to stay at home with Clarice, who'd taken the news badly.

But life went on.

It wasn't long after the fateful visit to the fertility doctor that Hannibal and Clarice Fell woke to find the front lawn covered in a deep layer of snow. The quietness that could normally be heard a Saturday morning enveloped them as they stayed in bed and enjoyed each other's company. The coldness outside the bed was hardly anything they wanted to deal with.

"Up… Get up, now." Hannibal whispered as he nuzzled his wife's cheek with his nose.

"But I don't want to." She pouted, encircling his neck with her arms.

"Oh, but darling, if we don't clear the pavement and the path to the house from snow, the neighbours will come knocking…" Hannibal smiled as he heard the sigh of irritation from her. "I can already hear Mr. Dursley outside. It won't be long before he sends that wife of his over here."

"Oh God no." Clarice pushed Hannibal away and sat up. "Fine. I'm up, see?"

Hannibal grinned as his wife slipped out of bed and took off her nightdress. He drank in the sight of her as she dressed and it wasn't until she left the room that he decided to join the world of the living.

It was a grey day outside and the clouds were heavy with snow that had yet to fall, but despite that, the residents at Privet Drive were all trying to clear any kind of path that they could find from snow. Hannibal, of course, knew that it was futile as more snow was prone to fall soon, but it was with a smile that he stepped outside with the snow shovel. He nodded at Mr. Dursley from next door and got to work. It would have been preferable if Clarice could have joined him, but it seemed that none of the wives on the street joined in, in which was evidently a male job. Instead Clarice had stayed inside and experimented with the stove in an attempt to warm some milk to make hot chocolate. Hannibal knew he'd probably end up having to save the mixture from turning into something completely tasteless, but he intended to make an attempt at drinking it, if it looked… well, like hot chocolate.

Before Hannibal had cleared even half the part of the pavement that was his, the first snowflake had already landed on his nose. He watched as the first man on the street sighed and trotted inside to his waiting wife. The others soon followed suit and Hannibal could see that it was now socially acceptable to do the same. He was just about to turn to the door, when he heard the sound of children shouting. The door to number four had been opened by Mrs. Dursley, who was ushering out the two boys. She was wearing her usual expression of distaste as she glanced at him with a small nod of greeting. Hannibal knew that he and his wife, despite their attempts to blend in, had been victims of much gossip. They were well liked of course, but when they first arrived at the street, several had looked at them with disapproving eyes. It was looked badly upon, when a man of his age married someone as young as Clarice.

Their dear neighbor, Mrs. Dursley, had been well informed of the street's gossip.

Dr. Fell smiled at Mrs. Dursley and watched as she tried to smile back (something which his wife had pointed out seemed to be physically impossible for the woman) and he was much satisfied with the gesture of toleration that his neighbor was showing by her pitiful attempt of a kind facial gesture.

She stayed outside, watching the boys play, though Hannibal wasn't sure what definition of "play" the boys were following. Mrs. Dursley did nothing as the smaller of the cousins was showed head first into the snow by the bigger boy. Hannibal hesitated as he watched Harry Potter splutter, lifting himself off the ground. His cheeks were red from the cold and snowflakes could be seen in his eyelashes. There was no smile on his face as he turned around to face his cousin again.

Dudley Dursley had formed a snowball in his hands and threw it after Harry, who stepped back in surprise as it hit him squarely in the chest. Another snowball came flying and it sent Harry running.

"Not fair!" Yelled Dudley as Harry slipped out of the garden and down the street towards number two. The bigger cousin chased after him, and Hannibal found himself smiling at the sight of the heavy boy trying to keep up with the much faster Harry. Hannibal stood still as Harry ran into the garden towards him and grabbed his leg, hiding behind it. Dr. Fell placed a hand on the raven haired boy's head and looked at Dudley, who halted as he caught sight of the grown-up.

"Good morning Mr. Dursley."

Dudley stood mouth agape, unable to utter a word as he stared at Hannibal, who was smiling with a mischievous glint in his eyes that disappeared in the instant Mrs. Dursley appeared at her son's side.

"I'm sorry _Doctor _Fell." Mrs. Dursley emphasized his title as she showed him exactly how much she knew about him.

Oh, but Petunia, he thought, you know nothing at all.

"It's quite all right Mrs. Dursley." He blinked charmingly and he saw the flush of red that appeared in her cheeks. "Boys will be boys."

"Yes…" She barely contained a stammer as she avoided his eyes. "I will just take them from here."

"Oh, it's quite alright." He glanced down at the small boy that was watching him intently. The intelligence shone through his eyes and Hannibal knew that the boy was picking up everything he saw. Harry blinked and Hannibal recognized the near invisibility of the boy's pleading. "I think Clarice has made hot chocolate and I'm sure I promised Harry some one of these days."

Dr. Fell had done no such thing of course and Harry knew that, but the small boy just smiled as he heard the innocent lie.

"Oh, that's too much…" Mrs. Dursley started, but Hannibal had already bent down and scooped up the boy, holding him close to his chest.

"Not at all Mrs. Dursley."

"Well, just bring him home at di…"

"…Before bedtime." Hannibal spoke quickly, cutting off Mrs. Dursley before she could tell him a time.

"By eight then." Mrs. Dursley said, slightly put off by his interruption. Hannibal disliked being rude, but he knew that Clarice would be happy to have the boy for a day. It wasn't as if they'd never had him over before. Besides, Harry wanted to go and Petunia preferred him gone. "Don't give him too much sugar. He won't be able to sleep."

With those words, Mrs. Dursley took her son by the hand and pried him away from number two's front lawn. The heavy boy's pleas to get hot chocolate as well could be heard as they walked away. Hannibal looked at the boy in his arms and he saw the shy smile that tugged at the corners of the boy's lips.

"Come on Harry, let's see if Clarice has anything ready for us, shall we?" The boy was placed on his feet and clutched Hannibal's hand as he nodded. Dr. Fell shook his head. "Tsk tsk Harry, did someone _eat_ your tongue?"

"No sir…"

"Don't sir me." Hannibal started towards the door and he felt the tug in his hand as Harry followed. "Besides, it's doctor."

"Okay Doctor."

"My name is Hannibal, Harry, you can call me that." Hannibal opened the door, shaking his head. The boy always insisted on this small game of formalities. He found it quite intriguing.

"Hannibal Fell, I know that." The boy sent him his first real smile that day.

"That's right Harry." Hannibal praised, smiling at Clarice as she came out of the kitchen. Harry ran forward before Hannibal could take off the boy's shoes and jacket and threw his arms around Clarice's legs.

"Hi Harry." She said, giving him a small hug. Hannibal saw the delight in her eyes at the sight of the boy and he knew that he'd done the right thing.

"Hello Mrs. Fell."

"Her name, Harry, her name…" Hannibal called as he took off his own shoes and jacket before prying the boy away from Clarice to take off his as well.

"_Clarice…"_ Harry smiled at Hannibal, who looked up in surprise from the boy's shoes that he'd been attempting to take off.

"That's right Harry." Hannibal quirked an eyebrow at Clarice who'd covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing as the boy had said her name. He had made an exact imitation of the way Hannibal might speak her name from time to time. Or, if to be correct, it had been an imitation of her accent that could barely be heard anymore. The boy ducked his head, biting his lip as he hid a snort of laughter. Hannibal patted his head affectionately as he took the boy by his hand and showed him into the kitchen. He was surprised as he smelled something that was _actually _hot chocolate.

"Do you want some Harry?" Clarice asked, placing cups for all of them at the table. The small boy crawled onto one of the chairs and sat, nodding his head.

"Yes please." His eyes were wide as Clarice poured the brown substance into his cup and Hannibal recognized the hunger. His eyes fell on the thin arms and his small frame. Wasn't he eating properly? There was a healthy tender of red in his cheeks, but the dark circles under his eyes told another story. Hannibal had noticed this before of course, but it worried him that the boy still wasn't eating as he should.

"Are you hungry Harry?" He asked, watching the boy carefully. Harry avoided his gaze and put his hands around the cup in front of him without trying to drink it. A moment of silence went past before he opened his mouth to talk.

"Only if you are too…"

The boy's eyes didn't waver from the cup and his whole frame was tense as he waited for a response. He was afraid. Was he afraid of them…or?

"Sure I am, Harry." Hannibal spoke quickly, walking to the cabinet and picking up some white bread. From the corner of his eye, as he cut the bread, he saw the tension leave the boy. He didn't drink anything before they were all seated at the small kitchen table.

"Go ahead Harry." Clarice was smiling. "But be careful, it's hot."

"Thank you." The boy said, finally lifting his cup and putting it to his lips.

Hannibal tried his and was surprised to find the brew quite agreeable. Clarice was watching his reaction and Hannibal nodded.

"It's good."

"Well thank you Hannibal." Clarice blinked as she sipped her drink. She turned her attention to the boy as he spoke.

"It's better than good." A shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips and Clarice laughed.

"See Hannibal, that's a real gentleman."

Dr. Fell nodded, his eyes remaining on Harry, who was sitting beside him. His eyes were wide and the green orbs seemed far too big for his small face. A memory tugged at the corner of his mind; the snow outside and the quiet, thin boy at the table, eating slowly and carefully, without saying a word. He pushed the memory away, shifting his eyes to his wife, who was watching with delight as the boy drank his fill and asked politely for seconds. He was wearing long sleeves; too long, and Hannibal had realized long ago that the Dursleys made Harry wear Dudley's second hand clothes. But Hannibal Fell wasn't really paying attention to the boy's clothes, but more to what he'd find if he slipped up the boy's sleeves.

"How old are you now, Harry?" Hannibal found himself asking.

"I'm five years old." Harry said. "You know that."

Hannibal smiled and patted the boy's head. He learned fast, having already picked up that they never asked stupid questions in this house and Hannibal wondered if he'd ever used that exact sentence with the boy before. Harry was intelligent. Not the same intelligence that he, himself possessed, but the intelligence that he recognized in his wife and only in a select few. It was the intelligence he saw in the countless of kids that came through the emergency room every day with cigarette burns and a broken arm. It was the intelligence of a lesson well learned.

* * *

"Come on Harry, put on your jacket." Clarice said as her smile diminished. The boy had gone unusually quiet by the time they had finished eating dinner and it was with a sigh of regret that Hannibal had looked at his watch to find it a quarter to eight.

"Yes, Clarice." Harry said mutely, slipping his arms through the sleeves as Clarice helped him. Hannibal was standing in the doorframe to the sitting room, watching them with his hands clasped behind his back. The boy had his eyes on his toes.

"Do you want me to follow you home, Harry?" Hannibal finally said, having remained quiet since announcing that the boy should go home.

"Only if you want to, Hannibal."

Hannibal took a step forward, crouching down beside Clarice and zipping up Harry's jacket for him. He touched the boy's cheek lightly and smiled. "Of course I do."

Harry didn't smile, just nodded solemnly. "Okay."

"Let's go young man." Hannibal took his hand and opened the door. "Your aunt must be starting to worry."

As they exited the house and the door closed behind them, Hannibal halted. Harry looked up at him with confusion and slight apprehension. Hannibal smiled kindly as he crouched down in front of the boy, but it didn't set him at ease.

"Harry, you know you can tell me anything, right?"

For a moment Harry remained quiet, before giving an unconvincing nod.

"And you know that you're always welcome with me and Clarice. You can always come by the house. You don't need to have a reason. Understood?"

"Yes." The boy murmured.

"Good." Hannibal smiled, getting on his feet. It's was cold outside and he could see his breath misting in the air. He'd better get the boy home. The walk was short and Hannibal knocked on the door to number four much sooner than he'd liked. Mrs. Dursley opened the door quickly, and Hannibal saw several emotions pass through her eyes in a split second. The one he latched onto was fear, but as she opened her mouth to greet him, there was more relief than anything else.

"Dr. Fell." She breathed.

"Good evening Mrs. Dursley." He glanced down at the boy who was still holding his hand without making a move to step inside. "I brought Harry. Sorry we are late. You know women. Clarice didn't want to send him home hungry."

It wasn't a complete lie. Clarice had been feeding the boy an awful lot, though it had been Hannibal who had prepared the meals. Mrs. Dursley tried to smile as she ushered the boy inside and told him to take off his clothes and get ready for bed.

"Thank you Dr. Fell. It was nice of you to look after him for a day."

"It was quite a pleasure. Harry is a very well-mannered young man."

Mrs. Dursley just nodded.

"I'll be on my way then." Hannibal turned to Harry, who was unlacing his shoes. "I hope to see you soon Harry. Sleep well."

"Good night Mr. Fell." There was no smile and Hannibal felt his jaw clench. A boy shouldn't be scared to go home. It was wrong.

When Hannibal left the house, he vaguely noticed that Mr. Dursley's car was gone and he went home with a heavy heart.

It was much later that night, when the late evening news were long over and the silence filled the streets of Surrey that Hannibal Fell woke with a start. Something had set off every single alarm bell in his mind and the calm man that was known as Dr. Fell by his colleagues was gone. In his stead resided Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

Clarice stirred beside him and he slipped out of bed silently, crossing the room to the window. Dr. Lecter breathed slowly through his teeth as he watched the scene in number four's garden.

The moonlight reflected on the untouched layer of snow that was covering Privet Drive and every object stood in great contrast to the white landscape. A thumb could be heard as a small body hit the snow hard in the back garden of number four Privet Drive. Hannibal's pulse made a jump before returning to normal as he recognized the thin frame of little Harry Potter. Behind him, he heard his wife turn in the bed. A shout could be heard from outside as Vernon Dursley joined his nephew in the snow, walking out of the back door like a bull chasing a moving object. He grabbed the small boy and shook him so hard that it looked like Harry's neck might snap at any moment.

"Hannibal?" His wife's voice penetrated his thoughts and when he turned around to face her, her eyes went wide. His face was completely calm and his eyes shone through the darkness, but no emotions showed in them as he went past the bed and left the bedroom, walking as fast as he could without breaking into a run. Behind him, Clarice called out and he heard her footsteps as she jumped out of bed to follow him. Hannibal rushed down the stairs and heard his wife halt as she stopped by the window and saw the scene outside. She cursed loudly and started running, catching up with him as he walked out into the snow bare feet. Clarice took his arm, trying to hold him back, but he shook her off.

"Hannibal, please stop! Please don't do this. You know what will happen…" Her plead went unheard as he strode through the front garden of number four. Clarice fell quiet, trying to keep up as they went around the house to the back yard. Her breath was coming out fast through her lips, leaving a trail of mist behind them, while Hannibal was breathing as evenly as if he was just going to have a friendly chat with neighbor. Only his attire of boxers and nightshirt told a different story. Clarice had at least had the sense to wear her night slippers.

The couple halted as the sight in the backyard met their eyes. Harry was standing completely still, facing his uncle, who was holding something in his hands. Hannibal was mildly surprised that the water hose still worked despite the frost weather, but evidently it did as Mr. Dursley had it on full force, pointing it at his nephew, whose oversized pajamas was absolutely drenched. Harry saw them as they came around the corner. He was slowly but surely starting to shake and Hannibal knew that the water had only just been turned on. His uncle was muttering under his breath and as Dr. Lecter breathed in through his nose, the stench of alcohol and sweat met him.

Vernon Dursley didn't see it coming.

Hannibal Lecter strode forward in three steps, lifting up his knee as he came in front of the fat man and pushing it up into his stomach with such a force that he bent forward. Hannibal placed his hands around the man's neck, pushing down and letting him fall over his still lifted knee. Mr. Dursley's own weight and the velocity of his fall sent him through the air. He landed on his back in front of Harry, lying completely immobile.

Behind him, Clarice rushed forward, lifting up the small boy into her arms. Harry was shaking violently now and she had trouble holding on to him.

"Oh god." She whispered, looking Hannibal in the eyes. He lowered his gaze to the unconscious form of Vernon Dursley and sighed. This was… not good. Clarice swallowed hard and Hannibal went forth, placing his arms around her. Harry was between them and he stepped back as he felt how cold he was.

"Get him inside… dry him. Get him some new clothes and bring him out here with a blanket, a bottle of our cheapest wine, a knife and two pairs of gloves." Hannibal formed the plan in his head as he spoke, watching as Clarice nodded and hurried away with the boy. Hannibal looked after them. Harry had his chin on Clarice's shoulder and his wide eyes were locked with his until Clarice carried him around the corner.

The lights of number four were turned off and Hannibal detected no sign of anyone being awake. He had to be sure of course, so he stepped through the open back door. He kept his hands close to his body, making sure he left no prints. The house was quiet. He walked through the living room into the hallway. He saw the door to cupboard was open and he peered inside. What met his eyes made him grit his teeth in anger. A small bed had been placed inside and Hannibal recognized the shirt Harry had been wearing that day laying on the floor. They made him live in there? He looked at the doorframe and saw the lock on the inside of the door, where Harry could lock it. It had been ripped out of its place. Someone had forced the door open.

Hannibal walked up the stairs, holding his breath as he peered into the bedrooms. Mrs. Dursley was in her bed, sleeping undisturbed and her son was doing the same. Everything was fine. No one had seen them.

Clarice walked into view as he stepped out of the house, closing the door behind him. She was carrying Harry, who was resting his head on her shoulder with closed eyes. She had two plastic bags in her other hand.

"I've got your clothes and your shoes in this one." She lifted one of the bags and Hannibal went forward. He'd been ignoring the cold, but he could very much feel it as his toes started to become numb. He dressed as quickly as he could while giving instructions.

"Get the car and put Harry in the backseat. Just let him sleep. It's better that way." At those words Clarice's eyes went wide.

"What are you going to do?" She sounded shocked and Hannibal realized exactly what she was thinking.

"Do you honestly think I could hurt the boy?" He didn't wait for an answer. "No, Vernon Dursley never came home today, okay?"

Clarice bit her lip. She remained quiet for a moment before nodding and leaving the garden with the boy without a word. Hannibal set to work. By the time he was done, there was no sign that they had ever been there… except for the unconscious form of Harry's uncle. As the man started snoring, Hannibal realized that he was no longer unconscious and only sleeping. The idea of leaving him there and let him die of the cold crossed his mind, but then again; if he survived, then what? It was much better to get rid of him once and for all.

When his wife came back, Hannibal started dragging Mr. Dursley to his car while Clarice swept the snow, covering the tracks. They had promised more snow tonight, right? Hannibal surely hoped so.

Dr. Lecter found the keys to the Dursley's car in the fat man's pocket and with the help of Clarice; they managed to get him into the passenger seat.

"Follow me in the car." Hannibal dried the thin layer of sweat off from his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. "Oh, and give me the gloves. You should wear yours as well."

It took nearly an hour for them to reach the right place. Hannibal drove the Dursley's car carefully through the snow covered streets and kept an eye on the snoring man next to him. Clarice was close behind them and she followed his every turn and stopped when he did.

"What are we doing here?" She asked as she stepped out of the car. Her voice was low and Hannibal peered into the car to see the sleeping form of Harry on the backseat. He could feel her hand on his arm as she leaned in beside him. "He's been asleep since we started driving."

"Good. As to what we're doing here… just wait."

Hannibal looked into the darkness. They had been following a forest road for ten minutes and they were now in the middle of nowhere. The forest was dark and thick and not a sound could be heard. They had stopped in a clearing and snow stretched out in front of them. But views could be treacherous and Hannibal knew exactly what was underneath it.

He went to the car and took the knife that Clarice had brought. Vernon Dursley opened his eyes groggily as Dr. Lecter poked him hard in the side with the shaft.

"Get out Mr. Dursley."

"Huh?"

"I said; Get out Mr. Dursley." Hannibal's voice was firm as he lifted the knife, letting the light from the interior of the car play against the metal. The man's eyes went wide as he stumbled out, landing on his knees. Hannibal stepped back, signaling to Clarice that she should do the same.

"Get the wine dear."

Clarice took out a bottle of red wine that they'd had in the house for two years now. Hannibal refused to drink it and Clarice had long since refined her tastes. It had been bought for Clarice when Hannibal was teaching her how to see the difference between quality wine and cheap wine. This bottle had been in the low end. When she placed it in his hand, he stepped forward and pressed the knife to Mr. Dursley's throat.

"Drink up." His words were just a low whisper, but the man heard him very well. Mr. Dursley' hands were shaking as he uncorked it and it dribbled down his chin as he started drinking it in big gulps. Hannibal watched his eyes. They were round with fear and it smelled good. It was _really _good. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips and Hannibal finally gave up, letting his face split into a full blown grin. "We are doing _good _Mr. Dursley."

Mr. Dursley grunted in response and wine spurted out of his nose, leaving a trail of red down his shirt. Hannibal laughed. He glanced back at his wife to see if she was enjoying this as much as him, but her expression was grim and as their eyes met, he saw the apprehension. His mouth fell open as if he wanted to say something, but he quickly closed it again and turned his head to Mr. Dursley. Hannibal felt anger fill him. He'd long since stopped enjoying seeing fear in his wife's eyes and this was _not_ what he wanted.

"Get on with it Mr. Dursley, we don't have all night!" Hannibal sneered as his anger grew. The big man was drinking as fast as he could now and the bottle was emptying rapidly. Most of the wine fell to the snow and a beautiful pattern of red was emerging. Hannibal licked his lips as he felt an urge emerge. It wasn't just any urge, it was _the _urge. He glanced back at his wife and back at Mr. Dursley. He was in control. He didn't have to do this.

"Walk." Hannibal pointed at the far end of the clearing where the snow was completely untouched and Mr. Dursley started stumbling in that direction. The man could hardly walk on his feet and a burp could be heard as he made his way across the clearing. "Stop!"

Vernon Dursley did as he bid and turned around to look at them. There was no fear in his eyes anymore as he could hardly hold them open. The man was smacking his lips in confusion and his head was nearly touching his shoulder in an unsuccessful attempt to hold it up. Hannibal Lecter didn't feel pity but his wife was trying hard not to say anything to stop the events. Their eyes met and Hannibal smiled reassuringly.

"What's going on?" Slurred the voice of Vernon Dursley and Hannibal turned his attention back to the confused man in the snow.

"What's _going on _is that we're playing a little game Mr. Dursley."

"A game?" The fat man sounded almost happy.

"_Yeeees." _Hannibal said through his teeth. "The same game you were playing with you nephew earlier."

"Huh?"

"Jump."

Vernon Dursley did as he was bid, bending his knees and setting off from the ground. A deep, creaking sound could be heard and when he landed on his legs again, Mr. Dursley crashed through the ice.

One moment he was there, the next he was gone in a spray of dark water and flying pieces of ice.

An arm could be seen grasping for the sky, a shout and a gurgle and then he was gone.

Vernon Dursley was no more.

Silence ensued.

Hannibal breathed in slowly, enjoying the smell of fresh air that followed the absence of the fat lump. He closed his eyes and didn't open them till he felt his wife's hand touching his shoulder. He turned around slowly and placed his hands on her arms, drawing her closer. Their foreheads touched and he opened his eyes with a blink.

Clarice's blue eyes were staring into his, searching for something. He knew exactly what it was. Hannibal was hungry, but he stayed still, keeping his face completely void of any emotions. Clarice avoided his gaze and Hannibal noticed the tears that threatened to fall but didn't. He touched her face lightly and drew her into a hug, kissing the top of her head.

"Are we staying in town?"

"Yes, they will say it was suicide. A bit inventive, but suicide." Hannibal lifted her chin and kissed her lips softly. "The police won't even look into it."

Clarice nodded and Hannibal put his lips to hers again, holding her close and feeling her body flush against his. He knew she thought this was wrong, but he couldn't help himself as he kissed her lips, her neck and everywhere he could reach that wasn't covered by her winter jacket. She pushed hard against his chest and he stepped back, feeling his stomach clench painfully in rejection.

"We…" She avoided his eyes as she bit her lip. "What are we going to do about Harry?"

"We bring him home. He was never gone."

Hannibal walked past Clarice and opened the backseat to their car. Harry was sleeping under a blanket. His hand was clutched around his glasses and his dark hair was sticking into every direction. Hannibal leaned down and lifted the boy up into his arms and seated himself on the backseat. Harry stirred and opened his eyes as Hannibal closed the door. Clarice got into the front seat without a word and started the car. Harry looked around with confusion, taking in the tense silence.

"Hi Harry." Hannibal said. "How are you feeling?"

Harry blinked. His green eyes filled up with hurt and confusion as he remembered what had happened.

"Fine."

Dr. Lecter smiled kindly, though he could only feel anger as he looked into the green eyes of the boy. He wished he could have done _more… _If only he could have dealt with Vernon Dursley the way he liked. Hannibal glanced at his wife behind the wheel. But he couldn't. There was simply too much to lose now and things had changed since he committed his so called _crimes. _

"No one can hurt you now, Harry."

"Where's uncle Vernon?" It was an innocent question and Hannibal wondered if the boy deep down knew the answer.

"He went for a trip and he isn't coming back."

Harry nodded silently, staring at Clarice as she drove.

"If anyone asks; the police, Dudley or aunt Petunia, then you were sleeping all night and you never even heard if uncle Vernon came home, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"You're safe now, Harry."

A small smile tugged at the corner of the boy's lips and Hannibal patted his head.

"No one will ever hurt you again."

**A/N:**

**This is a pretty long chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it :) **

**Uncle Vernon had to go, sorry. I don't hope he had too many fans out there…**

**The title of this chapter comes from the first fiction film made by the Lumiere brothers in 1895. The title translates to "The Waterer Watered" or "The Sprinkler Sprinkled". I decided against using "The Vanishing Glass, since it didn't have anything to do with that chapter. I might decide to put in a chapter based on the events in "The Vanishing Glass" later. **


	3. Funeral Dress Code Black

**Disclaimer: Everything in here belongs to J.K. Rowling and Thomas Harris. Let them fight over what's what.**

Chapter Three

Funeral Dress Code; Black

Mr. Vernon Dursley was found dead two days later.

A missing person's report had been filed in the morning when it became evident that Mr. Dursley had never returned home, but it wasn't before the discovery of his car, much later, that the police became involved. A small but deep pond in the forest was dragged and the body was found within a few hours. Despite the widow's claims that magic and witchcraft had been involved; it was quickly established that they were dealing with a very normal suicide case.

The beautiful snow that covered the front garden of number four Privet Drive was trampled down by neighbours, who wished to give their condolences to the recent widow. Some though, came because they wanted to hear just how deranged a tale Mrs. Dursley could make about the death of her husband and those involved. But they came in vain. Mrs. Petunia Dursley was the perfect picture of serene sorrow and not a word of ghouls and ghosts escaped her lips. Several neighbours would later mention the weirdly dressed man in the corner with a stick, but Mrs. Dursley would always deny that such a person had ever been present in her house.

Dr. and Mrs. Fell were the closest support that Mrs. Dursley could wish for in those days. They came by as soon as they'd heard what had happened (that will say; after the investigation) and they helped taking care of the boys and do chores around the house. Mrs. Dursley would always think that Mrs. Fell was very awkward around death and would always become quiet or make up excuses to flee the room when anyone mentioned the deceased. That was very normal and Mrs. Dursley accepted it with the grateful afterthought that at least she was trying. Dr. Fell on the other hand was very amicable and graceful in his handling of the situation. He took both boys to the movies one night, despite the fact that he'd never liked the bigger cousin much. But Dudley Dursley was very quiet in those days and seemed very confused at the whole situation. Somehow, Dr. Fell had managed to make the cousins get along for the first time in their lives.

But Dr. and Mrs. Fell weren't handling the situation as well as people would think.

Neither was Mrs. Dursley, but we will come around to that later.

No, Dr. and Mrs. Fell were trying hard to keep up appearances. If anyone had looked closely at the pair, they would have noticed how Mrs. Fell always stepped away as her husband reached out for her, or how Dr. Fell would frown when he saw his wife pout or glance guiltily at the pictures of Vernon Dursley. After a while though, Dr. Fell noticed that her face would harden at the mention of the deceased's name and he knew that she was finally convincing herself that the man had deserved it. It wouldn't be long before she came around again.

But it wasn't till the night before the funeral that Hannibal finally saw forgiveness in his wife's eyes.

Darkness came early in those winter days and the shadows filled up the rooms of number two Privet Drive, where hardly a sound could be heard. Hannibal sat alone in the living room with a glass of wine, glancing uninterested at the book in his hands. It had become very hard to concentrate on reading anything after he'd watched his wife ascent the stairs. The way her jeans had hugged her legs and the curve of her buttocks had sent a rush of heat through his body and he'd averted his eyes immediately as he remembered that they weren't talking. The silence during dinner had been unbearable and he'd tried countless of times to start a conversation, but his wife had just nodded at his words and averted her eyes from him.

Hannibal looked up as he heard the wind howl against the house and his eyes landed on the watch. It was late and they had to get up early tomorrow to be at the funeral. He got to his feet, put the book aside and forgot all about the wineglass on the table as he went upstairs. The throbbing between his legs became worse as he neared the bedroom and he glanced down at the tent in his pants with a sigh. Just great…

He noticed the light from the crack under the door and he knew she was awake; probably reading. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Clarice was propped up against the headboard with a pillow behind her back and a book in her hand. Her eyes left the book as she glanced up at him and momentarily halting at his crotch as she noticed the state he was in. Clarice returned her attention to the book and turned a page.

Hannibal sighed. "I know things have been tense between us the last week, so I won't bother you Clarice. I'm going to take a shower."

Clarice closed the book as her husband turned around and opened the door to the adjoining bathroom. She bit her lip and felt her heart skip a beat as the door closed behind him. Should she go in after him? Her answer was given as she heard the key turn in the lock. He'd never done _that_ before as far as she knew. For as long as they had been married, she'd never caught him masturbating. This was something new.

The shower started running and she heard a loud yelp from the other side of the door. She sat up straighter. _That did not sound like…_ A painful groan could be heard and Clarice threw the bedcovers aside as she leapt from the bed and hurried to the bathroom door.

"Hannibal!" She pounded on the door. "Hannibal! Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?"

Clarice's heart was in her throat and she could hear the blood rushing through her ears. The water was turned off and she heard the wet splashes as his feet padded across the floor to the door. The key was turned in the lock and she stepped back as Hannibal came out with only a small towel covering him. To anyone else, Hannibal looked completely calm, but Clarice noticed how he blinked twice a second and how his lips were drawn into a thin line. He was in pain.

"Oh God, Hannibal." She stepped forward and touched his arm gently. He was freezing cold. "What happened?"

"When I said _shower, _I meant a _cold _shower. A very cold one." Hannibal spoke through his teeth in an attempt to stop them from clacking. He gestured to his crotch. "It worked, see."

"Oh Hannibal." Clarice rushed into the bathroom and took the biggest towel she could find. She placed it around his shoulders and started drying him off. Despite the Doctor's attempt to stand still, she noticed that he was shaking. "Why didn't you just fix it the other way?"

"It would be rude…" He whispered, watching her fuzz over him. Their eyes met and Clarice felt tears threaten to fall as she saw the desperation in his eyes. "I didn't want to make it worse between us. I promised you that I would never do anything like I did with Mr. Dursley and I broke it…"

Clarice lifted her hand and touched the side of his face, trying to think of something to say. "You promised me that you would never _eat _another human being… not kill… I would kill for you and I can't deny you to do the same for me."

Hannibal nodded and he leaned down, placing a kiss on her cheek. She stayed completely still without turning her face away from him like she'd done earlier that week. It tugged at the corner of his lips and Clarice smiled as she saw the light in his eyes.

"You're freezing." Clarice said, taking him by the hand. "Get under the covers before your balls crawl back up where they used to be."

"I think that's too late…"

Clarice just shook her head at his comment as she tried to contain her laughter. Hannibal was smiling with amusement as he lay down on the bed. She tucked him in and placed a small kiss on his forehead before slipping under the covers, resting her head on his chest. He ran a hand through her hair.

"Would you ever say to me; Stop. If you loved me, you'd stop?" He asked quietly.

"Not in a thousand years." Clarice said resolutely, lifting her head from his chest to look him in the eyes.

"But you wouldn't like it, would you?" He asked. "If I ate someone?"

"No…"

"Would you stop loving me?"

Clarice sat up at his words, placing her palms on both his cheeks, so he couldn't look away from her. His lips were slightly parted as he waited for her answer.

"Do you remember our wedding?" She finally asked.

"Yes…" He whispered. "It was just the two of us and the witnesses in that small chapel. It was a good day… a little rushed because we thought we would get caught, but a good day."

"And do you remember our vows?" She ran a finger over his jaw and Hannibal closed his eyes briefly.

"Never…" He started.

"Never, no matter what happens, would we stop loving each other."

"Even if I went back to my old ways?"

"Even if you went back to your old ways." She didn't smile as she said it. "But you would be sleeping on the couch for a _very _long time."

Clarice rested her head on his chest again and they continued talking for a while, but it didn't last long before they felt their eyes tire and sleep overwhelm them. Hannibal felt content to sleep in his own bed for the first time in a week and Clarice snuggled closer to him despite his cold feet. But like it had happened a billion times before; morning came.

Light crept through the window and travelled across the floor till it reached the bed. Hannibal stirred as it hit his face, making the inside of his eyelids turn red. He tried to turn around to his other side, but the heavy weight of his wife across his chest made it impossible to move. He opened his left eye and peered down at her. The sun was playing with her hair and made it look like it was on fire. He blinked the other eye open. Clarice had died her hair completely blonde when they first came here but then her normal brownish color had come back. Right now though, he could swear that he saw strands of red in it. He thought about his own hair that was slowly but surely turning white and found that he didn't mind the new colors that were appearing in her soft strands of hair. Hannibal breathed in slowly and glanced at the watch on the nightstand. It was time to get up.

Within the hour, both Dr. and Mrs. Fell were dressed in their finest, black clothes and they made their way down the short length of pavement that divided the two houses. Mrs. Dursley didn't answer the door and when it finally opened, they were surprised to see the wide eyed face of Dudley Dursley stare up at them. The boy was dressed in a small, black tux that had probably been tailored to fit him and it looked quite good. Clarice leaned down with a smile.

"Hi there handsome, where's your mother?"

Dudley's lips moved but no sound escaped them and Hannibal noticed that no one had bothered to help him with his tie. He glanced past the boy and into the house. It smelled as if someone had burned the breakfast. Suddenly he heard a shout from upstairs and Hannibal pushed aside the kid and started for the stairs.

"Stand still!" Mrs. Dursley's voice sounded tired and close to tears, but the sharp undertone revealed her anger. "You should be glad that Aunt Marge already left to go to the church, or else… I should have listened to her back then. Vernon would still be here then. Stand still I said! He never liked you. I should have listened to his sister and put you in an orphanage. It would have been better for everyone!"

Hannibal didn't rush up the stairs as he listened to Mrs. Dursley's words. He took one step at a time, trying to be as quiet as possible. As he reached the top; he stopped in the doorframe to Dudley's bedroom. Mrs. Dursley was on her knees, trying to force Harry's arm through the sleeve of a white shirt that didn't even look big enough for a one year old and the boy was starring hard at the floor taking in everything she said.

"And did Vernon try, yes he did, he tried to help you Harry. You don't understand that yet, but you will soon enough. He said that he had to beat the freakiness out of you. It's the only way, he said. I didn't always agree, but he was right." Mrs. Dursley took a pair of scissors up from the floor and started cutting the shirt open to make it bigger. "I have to do better than Vernon… beat it out of you. You'll be normal soon Harry. No more freakiness, no more little monste…"

"That's enough!" Hannibal stepped into the room and snatched the scissors out of her hand. Mrs. Dursley looked up from the shirt in her hands and her mouth fell open. Hannibal could feel the anger bubbling under the surface and he grit his teeth.

"Dr. Fell…"

"Spare me of your excuses Mrs. Dursley." He glanced at Harry, who had lifted his eyes from the floor. The boy was watching him suspiciously as if he wasn't really sure what the Doctor was doing there. Hannibal sighed and turned around to Dudley's wardrobe. "Please leave the room Mrs. Dursley. I'll make sure Harry is dressed."

He heard the woman scuttle out of the room as he took a nicely sized shirt out of the wardrobe. When he turned around, Harry was standing on the exact same spot as before, watching him with his lips drawn in a thin line as he tried to be brave, but Hannibal could smell the salt of the tears that were threatening to fall at any moment. The older man got down on his knees in front of the small boy and slipped his arms through the sleeves. As he helped him with the buttons, Hannibal spoke.

"Does your aunt talk like that often?"

The boy just shrugged his shoulders.

"She's wrong, you know." Hannibal found the butterfly that Mrs. Dursley had left on the floor. "You're not a freak. You're completely normal and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"But I _am _a freak." Harry said quietly and it made Hannibal stop what he was doing. "Weird things happen around me. I can't help it."

"Weird things?" Hannibal asked skeptically.

"Yes…" Harry looked at the shredded shirt on the floor. "That shirt was bigger than the one I'm wearing now. The more Aunt Petunia tried to get it on me, the more it shrank…"

"I'm sure there's a very logical explanation for that." The Doctor said as he remembered the events four years ago that involved a flying motorbike amongst other things. "You're a good boy Harry. I don't need to tell you that because you _know _it. Your Aunt is grieving and doesn't know what she's saying and your Uncle was a bullying brute who got what… who couldn't live with the things he'd done to you."

Hannibal had nearly slipped in his speech and wasn't about to test exactly how much Harry suspected had happened that night. Did the boy know it wasn't suicide? Or did he believe his uncle had offed himself out of guilt? The latter would be better. Harry just nodded silently as Hannibal slipped his shoes on and tied them.

"Come on Mr. Potter." Hannibal patted his cheek. "We have a funeral to attend."

Dr. Fell took the boy by the hand and together they walked down the stairs and entered the kitchen where Mrs. Fell had managed to fix Dudley's tie and was currently listening to him talking animatedly about some sort of TV series. It didn't take long before Mrs. Dursley joined them, wearing sunglasses and an expression that would have sent the bravest man running. Dudley took his mother's hand reluctantly. The Fells had offered to drive the small family to the funeral and they did so in silence.

Neither Hannibal nor Clarice were religious people and they sat down in the church feeling ill at ease. They were seated right behind Mrs. Dursley and the boys in case they needed anything and they were hastily introduced to the heavy woman known as Marjorie Dursley. Hannibal noticed that Harry sat as far away from his "Aunt" as possible and glanced back at the Fells to see if they were still there. Clarice squeezed the small boy's hand and he smiled widely.

Hannibal managed to stay alert during the ceremony, but he couldn't say the same for his wife, whose eyes dropped every two seconds. He nudged her gently in the side every time it looked like she might finally nod off, and she glared at him angrily. He would have laughed if it wasn't for the circumstances. They didn't want to attract unwanted attention, now, did they?

When the coffin was finally taken outside, the Fells felt relief flood them as they breathed in the fresh air. Harry was walking behind the coffin, clutching his Aunt's left hand as Dudley did her right. He looked a proper little gentleman even though the suit Hannibal had found was a bit too big and Harry waved silently as he walked past them. Clarice waved back, smiling gently. Hannibal watched the delight on her face and felt something heavy land in his stomach. He couldn't give her a little boy that she could wave at whenever she wanted to….

Putting Vernon into the ground didn't take long and the Fells kept their distance from the grieving family, waiting for the moment when they should drive them back home. There was going to be a reception at the Dursley's home and Hannibal had been the one to arrange it. He knew that there were currently several people at the house, setting up the food and everything. It crossed his mind that it was rather macabre that he was at the funeral and had arranged the reception when he was the one who had killed the deceased.

His lips tugged into a smile.

Mrs. Dursley was very nervous as she shook hands with all the people who had attended the funeral. When a tall, white haired man walked up to her, Hannibal felt recognition well up in him. He had seen him before…. Was this? Yes, this was the man who had placed Harry on the doorstep of the Dursley's house all those years ago.

But eventually even the oddly dressed people walked away, leaving the Fells alone with the family. Marjorie Dursley was eyeing them suspiciously, especially when Harry let go of his aunt's hand and walked up to Clarice and hid behind her legs.

"I see the boy has taking a liking to you, Mrs Fell." The big woman said. "Just watch out, he has always been an ungrateful little bastard. Vernon always said so."

"I'm sure Vernon said a lot of things Mrs. Dursley." Clarice started. "But I do believe he was wrong about that one."

"We'll see…" As she walked past them, she sent Harry a look that made the boy let go of Clarice's leg and clutch her hand instead. A loud yapping could be heard from inside the car and Hannibal noticed the dog on the front seat.

Mrs. Dursley stepped forward, holding onto Dudley, who looked just as confused as always, clearly not having understood the finality of his father's situation.

"I think…" She started. "I think it would be best, if Harry stayed with you for a while. Marjorie has decided to stay for a few days and she can't stand the boy. I'm afraid… I'm afraid she might do something rash… blame Harry or…"

"We understand." Clarice spoke quickly. "It's no problem. Is it Harry?"

Harry was still holding her hand and looked from her aunt to Clarice, before he shook his head. "I would very much like that Mrs. Fell."

Hannibal noticed the relief that passed over Mrs. Dursley's face, which was quickly masked with gratitude. Harry seemed genuinely happy at the prospect and Hannibal smiled kindly at the boy as he beamed up at them.

The reception passed uneventful. Harry kept himself to Hannibal or Clarice the entire afternoon, avoiding both his aunts with near perfection. Hannibal even found it in himself to include Dudley as he took Harry outside with a football that Harry had found in the shed. The boys played nicely together, though Hannibal was surprised to see that Harry was the one who seemed most animated. Clarice, who had wanted to learn the rules of European football since she came there, was rather confused at the boys' game. Hannibal had to admit that their game had nothing to do with football and rather looked like something they'd just invented where it was okay to pick the ball up in their arms and throw it instead.

As it became late and most guests had gone home, Hannibal picked Harry up in his arms despite the boy's protests.

"It's late Harry." Dr. Fell said, struggling with him. "You're going home with me and Clarice tonight, remember?"

"Oh, right." Harry quieted and beamed at Clarice as she walked up beside them. "Where am I sleeping?"

Hannibal glanced at Clarice, who looked just as confused as him.

"Well…" She started. "We don't actually have a guestroom or a mattress or…"

"I guess you have to sleep with us tonight." Hannibal said, not really feeling all that comfortable at the thought.

"But I'm not allowed to go into a grownup's bedroom…"

"Hush honey." Clarice said with a smile. "We don't mind at all, do we Hannibal?"

"Not at all dear."

Harry nodded solemnly, clearly thinking that it was quite a big deal. The Fells took the two boys inside where the aunts were seated. The guests had all left and Marjorie Dursley stank of cognac as she lifted her glass in greeting.

"Well met!" She slurred. Her eyes landed on Harry. "Not you boy…"

"We're taking Harry home." Clarice said quickly, eyeing the big woman at the table warily.

Mrs. Dursley nodded, hardly looking at the boy at all.

"The Doctor and his wife are being very kind to you boy." Marjorie said. "You better behave, cos if I hear anything else…"

"I _always _behave." Harry said with a hard tone, feeling much braver in Hannibal's arms. Clarice couldn't hide her smile at his words and she excused them, saying that it was getting late and that they should get home.

"Of course, thank you for taking him." Mrs. Dursley said quietly.

"Not at all." Hannibal noticed the lost expression on the heavy cousin's face as he waved goodbye to Harry.

Back in number two Privet Drive much later that night, Harry was standing awkwardly in the doorway to the bedroom. He was watching silently as Clarice picked out one of Hannibal's old t-shirts and handed it over to him.

"You can sleep in this one Harry." She said with a smile. "Come on, let's brush your teeth."

Harry was surprised to see that Clarice had somehow managed to bring his own toothbrush with her and he quickly did as he was bid.

"Let me see them." She asked. Harry smiled widely, showing off his teeth and toothpaste dripping down his chin. Clarice laughed and wiped it off with a towel, handing him a glass of water. "Gurgle and spit out."

When they came back to the bedroom, Hannibal was already there, dressed in a blue pajamas and Harry crawled up, placing himself in the middle. He wasn't really sure what he should do, but his five year old mind decided that it might be best if he went straight to sleep. He knew that his aunt and uncle didn't like it when he couldn't sleep. So the small boy slipped under Clarice's blanket, staring at the ceiling.

Both Clarice and Hannibal were unusually silent and Harry thought that probably meant that they wanted to sleep too. He couldn't know of course that the two grownups simply didn't have a clue as what to do with him. Should they tell him a story? They didn't have a single children book in the house and reading him something might turn out to be problematic. As the silence stretched on, Harry closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep.

Hannibal looked down at the small boy as he sat with his back to the headboard.

"That was quick." Clarice mumbled and Hannibal nodded in agreement as he watched the boy's chest move up and down in an even rhythm. "You know, if he's going to stay here for a few days, we might consider installing something in the guestroom…"

"Just for him?" Hannibal asked with a furrowed brow.

"No, yes, I mean, all the extra bedrooms in this house are empty. Completely empty. I know we decided to keep it that way in case we had to move, but it does seem a bit weird, doesn't it? We have no pictures and a half empty house…"

"You mean, in case Harry gets suspicious?"

"Yes. It didn't matter before, because no one who visits goes upstairs, but Harry might and quite frankly, the boy is smart."

"You're right Clarice." Hannibal winked at her. "It would be quite embarrassing if we got caught by a five year old, wouldn't it?"

The Fells were right to make the second bedroom, because Harry Potter didn't just stay for a few days. A few days turned into a week and a week turned into a month and by the time Marjorie Dursley finally decided to go home, Harry Potter had firmly moved into number two Privet Drive.

**A/N:  
Please review! It makes it so much easier to write the next chapter :P **

**So what do you think of my way of installing Harry in House Lecter? Quite smooth, wasn't it? I considered killing Mrs. Dursley, but I saw no motivation for it, besides, what would happen to the blood protection? And Harry would obviously be taken away by Dumbledore… The rest of the Dursley's stay alive… for a while MWHAHAHHA! **


	4. The Vanishing Glass

**Disclaimer: Everything in here belongs to J.K. Rowling and Thomas Harris. Let them fight over what's what.**

Chapter Four

The Vanishing Glass

Six years was a long time for a boy and Harry Potter was hardly aware of the changes that had happened in the street called Privet Drive.

After the tragic suicide of Vernon Dursley, things had changed for his small family and the wife had been left impoverished. Luckily for her, she had the loyal help of her neighbours; the Fells. The Doctor and his wife had generously agreed to help take care of the widow's orphaned nephew while she struggled to make ends meet for her and her son. Petunia had taken up her old work as a secretary at day and as a cleaning lady at night and it took up most of her time, leaving her son with much more responsibility than was healthy, but the boy had turned out to be much more capable than anyone would have guessed six years ago.

Dudley Dursley had grown into a healthy, young boy with the help of Doctor Fell's cooking and he'd thrown off the obesity that had been following him his entire life. Every day after school, he'd follow his cousin home and stay with the Fells till his mother came and picked him up. The boys, who used to be as night and day, had both grown into two very serious beings that both had trouble making friends in school, but when they were put together, they suddenly turned into the children they were supposed to be.

If anyone had once called him spoiled, they now ate their words.

But the Dursley's weren't the only ones who'd changed their lives after the tragedy. The Fells had never felt as lost as when they suddenly found themselves with a child in their house, but they'd soon adapted and their once pristine back garden now accommodated a swing and two goals could be seen, one in each end. The rooms had been filled up with furniture and pictures and it now felt like someone actually lived there. The Fells tried to avoid being caught in photos, but when a child figures out how a camera works; such a feat soon proves to be impossible.

The one though, who showed up in nearly every photo, was one Harry Potter. He was just as skinny as he had been at the age of five despite the Fells constant attention to his eating habits but he had still grown and it could be seen as one took a glance at the photos on the mantelpiece. In the oldest one, he was still five years old and was proudly showing off how he'd learned to ride a bike. The heels of Clarice Fell could be seen in the lower corner as she avoided being caught in the photo. Many pictures looked like that as in the one where Hannibal Fell was teaching him how to read and only his arm around Harry's shoulder could be seen. But eventually their shyness faded and by the time Harry was seven years old, the Fells took the small family to a photographer downtown who took several pictures of the small family together. It was the first picture of Hannibal and Clarice together.

At the moment though, Harry was asleep in his room, but not for long. Clarice was awake and it was her soft voice which made the first sound of the day.

"Harry, you need to get up now." Harry didn't wake right away and Clarice knocked on the door again. "Harry…"

She stayed outside the door as Harry slowly woke, trying to hold on to the dream he had just had. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorbike in it and he had a funny feeling that he'd had the same dream before. He could hear Clarice move outside his door.

"Are you up yet?"

"Nearly." He mumbled into his pillow.

"Well, get a move on. We have to be at Dudley's house at ten, we're taking him to the zoo. It's his birthday, remember?"

Harry's eyes flew open. It was Dudley's birthday. How could he forget that? He was out of the bed in a flash and ripped the door open and smiled at a startled Clarice.

"Morning Clarice."

She shook her head as she started straightening his hair with her hands. Harry never tried to do anything about it, but Clarice always had to make an attempt. "Get dressed. Hannibal has breakfast ready."

He went into his room again and found his clothes in his wardrobe. Harry had the second biggest bedroom in the house and it was just as spotless and well-kept as the rest of the house. There were books lining the walls and tailored clothes filled the wardrobe. He had long since understood that they were rich, but also that they didn't show it. Sometimes, he'd wonder why they lived on Privet Drive at all, when Hannibal could afford the nicest car on the market. But he kept quiet and remained grateful as he remembered that he wasn't _really_ their child and had once lived with his cousin next door. It was now so long ago that he could hardly remember anything. Actually, he could hardly remember why he started living with the Fells in the first place but he'd been told that it was because his uncle died.

Harry didn't like to think about his uncle.

When Harry was dressed, he walked down the stairs and joined his stepparents in the kitchen. Hannibal was reading a newspaper and Harry sat down quietly beside him; a habit that had remained with him from his days at the Dursleys though he wasn't aware of that. It just seemed so _rude _to disturb someone when they were reading.

"Comb your hair, Harry." Hannibal's smooth voice sounded without having glanced up. Harry's surrogate father was always very neat and it bothered Haary that he couldn't have the same manageable hair as him. He had some very cool eyes too and a scar on his left hand and when Harry had asked him about it years ago, he had smiled and told him it was from an accident. Harry knew he was lying.

"His hair is lovely as it is Hannibal." Clarice said as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

"And still you always attempt to make it lay flat." Harry said and watched as Hannibal's lip curled into a smile, knowing it was something he would have said.

"You are like two peas in a pod, aren't cha?" Clarice shook her head and Harry observed her as she sipped from her cup. She spoke funny sometimes, especially when she was mad. Clarice got angry real easy. It was another thing he had observed about the Fells. They weren't from around here. Clarice sounded American sometimes and Hannibal was absolutely impossible to figure out. When he had asked them about it, they'd shared a look and silence had ensued. Harry was just about to decide that he'd never ask them another question like that when Clarice had kissed him on his cheek and told him that she was from West Virginia. Harry could see in her eyes that it was the truth. Hannibal had remained quiet.

"_Fine…_" Hannibal drawled and folded the newspaper together. "His hair is lovely, but _please _put some hair-wax in it. We can at least pretend that his weekly haircut makes a difference."

"It doesn't." Harry smirked. "Why should we pretend?"

"You will discover that people do nothing else but pretend, and since we are people, Harry, we have to pretend as well." Hannibal spoke despite Clarice's frown. Harry knew that they acted much more differently in public than at home and that they hated it. The Fells did a lot of things that they didn't like. Clarice stayed at home even though it was clear that she was bored out of her mind and Hannibal never visited the neighbours even though he lit up like a light whenever a social occasion presented itself.

It must be a grown-up thing, Harry thought, to do things you hate.

After breakfast, Clarice dragged Harry up the stairs and proceeded to fix his hair so it looked like it was sticking out in every direction on purpose. They gathered their things and moments later, they were on their way to the neighbours. Aunt Petunia smiled politely as they arrived. Clarice had once told him that such a smile was a person's way of keeping their distance and Harry had since then tried to observe his aunt when she spoke to him only to realize that she hardly looked in his direction. It didn't upset him as much as it probably should have.

Aunt Petunia had to work and wouldn't be able to stay for long. Harry felt bad for Dudley as he remembered how Hannibal had gone out of his way to get off work on his tenth birthday.

"Show your parents inside please." Her eyes went in the general direction of Harry and he did as he was bid. It was another weird thing about his aunt. She hardly acknowledged that they were related. He knew that he wasn't _officially _living with the Fells; he wasn't even adopted by them, and he came around her house nearly every day, having spent plenty of nights in Dudley's room when they had sleepovers. Still, it was as if she _wanted _him to be their kid, as if it made everything okay in her world. Eventually, as the years went on, Harry and even the Fells had stopped correcting her and the word felt comfortable. _Parents…. _It was nice.

Dudley beamed as he saw them.

"Harry!" The bigger boy sped forward and grabbed his cousin's hand. "You have to see what Aunt Marge got me! It's a water pistol that's even bigger than the one Piers had! We can take it to the park and get revenge for last time!"

Harry was dragged around the kitchen where all the gifts were, but he had a nagging feeling in the back of his head that there were very few compared to what Harry had got at his birthday and he felt his stomach clench in shame. As he made clever comments about the gifts, Harry finally remembered something.

"You have to see what we got you!"

His gift was much bigger than anything Aunt Petunia could have bought him and he saw the way her lips stretched into a thin line at the sight of the racing bike. Harry had one and when Hannibal had asked why he never used it, he'd said it was because he didn't have anyone to use it with. It then became much easier to figure out what to give to Dudley. His cousin's eyes went wide as he thanked Hannibal and Clarice, smiling from ear to ear.

Aunt Petunia quickly excused herself as she had to go to work. She gave Dudley a small hug and told him to behave. Her nod to the Fells was courteous but it couldn't hide the guilty resentment in her eyes. Clarice avoided looking at her but Hannibal just smiled in return and told her to be careful when driving. Hannibal always knew how to behave.

"Dudley my boy, do you have all your things?" Hannibal asked with his hands clasped on his back. "We're going out today."

"Cool, where are we going?"

"The _zoo._" Hannibal's accent shone through and Harry wasn't sure if he did it on purpose. It sounded almost German this time and when he was younger, he'd asked Hannibal if he'd ever been a spy. Hannibal had seemed amused at the notion and would have laughed if it wasn't for the sound of Clarice dropping something in the kitchen. Apparently she found the question even funnier than Hannibal had.

"Wow, I haven't been to the zoo in years…"

"I've _never_ been to the zoo." Why the cousins always had to compete was still a mystery to them.

Whenever the small family went somewhere together, it wasn't Hannibal who drove but his wife. Clarice was a great driver… really… but still, Hannibal always sat stiffly in his seat as Clarice let off steam behind the wheel. She had a temper and this morning it was motorbikes.

"…you fucking idiot!" She snarled as she swerved the car to avoid one. Dudley stared at Harry with wide eyes. "What the fuck are you thinking! I could have hit you! If I had my bad…"

Hannibal sent her look that made her shut up and she gripped the steering wheel harder with a deep breath.

"Sorry kids…"

"I had a dream about a motorbike." Said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."

He hardly noticed the look that passed between his parents as Dudley spoke.

"Motorbikes don't fly."

"I _know _that stupid." Harry articulated and got a punch in return. Hannibal knew that the boys would either laugh it off or a fight would break out and was rather relieved when Harry halfheartedly tried to put Dudley in a headlock and failed with a smile.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Fells passed the ice cream booth at the entrance without buying the boys anything. Dudley glanced after it but Harry started dragging him towards the gorillas. Looking at it felt slightly familiar and Harry was reminded of some of the old pictures of Uncle Vernon… it was eerie.

Harry had the best morning he'd had in a long time. He and Dudley walked ahead of the grown-ups and whenever it seemed like they would lose them in the crowd, Hannibal and Clarice suddenly appeared behind them, making the boys jump in fright. Hannibal smirked.

They ate lunch at the zoo restaurant but Hannibal was frowning the entire time and Harry knew he was wishing for a nicer place. Clarice, on the other hand, couldn't help but tell the boys how she hadn't had a hot dog since she married Hannibal and he sent her a glare that would have made any other person run away screaming. Dudley nearly choked on his soda.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Hannibal wandered off on his own as if in a trance and Clarice just smiled as she followed the boys instead. Dudley wanted to see all the dangerous animals and Harry quickly pointed out the biggest snake of them all.

As they moved closer to the glass, Harry felt something tug at the bottom of his stomach. It was beautiful. It looked like it could crush any car into a small cube and then drop it in the waste bin- but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistering brown coils.

"Make it move." He glanced at Harry, urging him to do something.

Harry rapped his knuckles against the glass, saying: "Wakey wakey, hands off snakey!"

"Do it again!" Dudley laughed.

Harry noticed that the snake was starting to move and encouraged, he did it again, saying the same words.

"That sounds so cool…"

"What?" Harry looked away from the snake to his cousin.

"Huh?"

"What sounds cool?" Harry was slightly annoyed. Why did Dudley always have to act so stupid?

"Seriously Harry… you're scaring me…"

"What are you talking about?"

"Stop it!" Dudley pushed Harry so hard that he fell to the ground, as he got up to run after his cousin, none of them noticed the glass that had vanished behind them. Harry dodged after Dudley but stopped as his bigger cousin slammed into a stunned Hannibal. His eyes were wide and watching something behind them. Harry turned around.

The glass was gone.

People screamed and started running, but Clarice was standing completely still, her eyes trained on the huge snake as it slit out of its cage. Harry saw something glint in her hand. Was that a knife? The snake went up, leveling with her till they were eye to eye.

"_Clarice…" _Hannibal's voice was just a whisper behind Harry, but he saw him as he rushed forward soundlessly, but there was no need.

The snake lowered itself to the ground and started slithering away before Hannibal could do anything. Harry saw the knife disappear into Clarice's sleeve and how her arms went around Hannibal's neck as he caught her, pressing his lips to hers. Harry wanted to look away, but he was captivated by their display of affection. What he heard next would shape his entire life.

"_Brave Clarice…"_

_Brave… _

At the time of course, it seemed like any other thing that Hannibal would say to her, but the words stuck with him like chewing gum to a blonde's hair. Dudley was gaping as well, but Harry knew it was only because he fancied Clarice, not that he would reveal that to him in his hopeless obliviousness. When Hannibal finally let go of her, the keeper of the reptile house had arrived. He was in absolute shock.

Despite Hannibal's claims that they were fine, they were forced to have tea with the zoo director and both he and Clarice looked like they'd rather be anywhere else in the entire world. Of course, they played their part well, smiling politely and sounding upset when there was need of it, but Harry could read off them that they'd rather be at home. Dudley was very quiet the entire time and kept sending Harry strange looks, but Harry couldn't fathom for the life of him why it might be so. Finally, Hannibal put his arms around the two boys despite their protests and proclaimed that they had to be very tired from the day's ordeals.

When they were back in the car, Harry became absolutely stunned when Dudley decided to speak for the very first time since the event.

"You spoke to it, didn't you Harry?"

That night when Harry was trying to fall asleep, he heard Hannibal's footsteps outside his door. He knocked the door politely.

"Are you awake Harry?"

"Yeah…"

The door opened slowly and Hannibal poked his head in. Harry could hardly remember a time where Hannibal hadn't had grey hair, but somehow he knew that it used to be dark. It made him happy that they shared the same hair color as if it made up for all the other differences. Hannibal closed the door behind him and sat down on the bed, resting his hand on Harry's cheek.

"I know you're upset about something."

"I didn't talk to the snake."

"Of course you didn't." Hannibal said quietly.

"I didn't make the glass disappear."

"Harry, sometimes we do things that we aren't aware of. You're a remarkable boy and even though I know nothing in the world could make the glass disappear, I also know that if anyone should be able to do it, it should be you."

"But Clarice could have died…"

"Clarice is a grown woman." Harry saw Hannibal's smile through the darkness. "She can take care of herself."

"She had a knife…"

"Are you sure?" Hannibal wasn't smiling anymore. "It's illegal. You wouldn't want Clarice to get into trouble, do you Harry?"

"Of course not…"

"That's my boy…"

Hannibal leaned down and kissed Harry goodnight.

**A/N:  
Another chapter done!**

**I've wondered which house Harry should be in and since this is not a rewrite of the story, but more how different scenes in Harry Potter would turn out with Hannibal and Clarice in them, I felt that I should give Harry a reason to choose Gryffindor. Harry wants to win Hannibal's approval and please him even more, because he feels inadequate because he's not their real son. Thus he strives to become a person that Hannibal would admire. Seeing how Hannibal admires Clarice's bravery(I see her as a Gryffindor) makes him want to gain that quality.**

**Another house that Harry should be leaning towards with this upbringing is Ravenclaw because of the academic values Hannibal has, but it's probably so ingrained in the boy that it's a quality that he takes for granted. As in, of course he has to study and of course he has to be a good student. It's a quality that he would already possess, thus strive less for.**

**Slytherin will of course appeal to him in the sense that he has part of Voldemort's soul in him. Hannibal as a young boy would probably be in Slytherin, but I think as he is in this story, as an older, settled down man, he would choose Ravenclaw.**

**I, myself, am a Hufflepuff and proud of it. This family would do anything for each other just as any Hufflepuff would do and their loyalty is immense, but as with Ravenclaw… I think they take it for granted because that's just the way things are. Of course they're loyal and of course they love each other. **

**If you disagree, please let me know ;) **

**Firebolt**


	5. The Letters from No One

**Disclaimer: Everything in here belongs to J.K. Rowling and Thomas Harris. Let them fight over what's what.**

Chapter Five

The Letters from No One

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor was long forgotten by the children of this story as we meet them again. By this time, the summer holidays had started and Dudley and Harry were enjoying their free time, hanging out together. They were mostly outside with the racing bikes and they'd been seriously reprimanded by Hannibal after they'd accidentally knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Harry was glad school was over, but he quickly tired of the same holiday routines. After the other boys in their class had talked about where they were going for holiday, Harry had started wondering why he'd hardly been out of Surrey. When he'd asked Clarice one evening when Hannibal was working, she'd told him it was because Hannibal was too busy. Afterwards, he'd started noticing small things about her. She always wore sunglasses when she went shopping even though it was cloudy and she only went outside to exercise. Harry was slowly starting to believe that his stepmother was afraid of leaving the house.

Despite all this, both Dudley and he were looking forward to September. They'd be going off to secondary school and this time it was without Piers and all the other boys, which quite frankly suited Harry just fine. They were going to Stonewall High, the local comprehensive, and Harry knew that Aunt Petunia wasn't happy about it.

Uncle Vernon had been at Smeltings and she had cried when she realized she couldn't send Dudley there because of the price.

Hannibal wasn't too happy about the choice of school either. He'd gone on about private schools for a while and even gone as far as mentioning Eton, when Clarice had told him to shut up. Apparently they'd both gone to public schools and turned out just fine. Besides, the cousins should stay together, she'd said

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took both boys to London to buy their school uniforms. Harry found it rather depressing that they had to wear grey, but was surprised when he realized that his aunt was going to pay for it.

"It's your birthday gift, so don't mention it!"

Harry rarely felt happy when he was with his aunt, but the way her cheeks reddened when she'd told him it was a gift made him smile.

When he saw his aunt the next day though, she nearly jumped her skin. She was leaving the house for work and Harry was sitting on the grass in front of number two, waiting for Dudley to be let outside. It didn't happen though. As soon as his aunt saw him, she turned around, going into the house and yelled something. Harry couldn't make out what, but as she left the house, she locked the door.

That was weird…

As Aunt Petunia drove away, Harry got to his feet. The curtains were drawn next door but he saw something move inside. With a furrowed brow, Harry walked closer, standing on the front lawn of number four and watching as the kitchen window was pushed open. A leg came out and with a yelp, Dudley fell into the flowerbed.

"Good morning Dudley." Harry said with a smirk as Dudley wiped dirt off his face.

"Shut up Harry." He grumbled as he tried to clean his blonde hair.

"Are you going to tell me why you're trying to escape your own house?"

"Mum took my key. It's because of you, really."

"Oh…" Harry followed Dudley as the other boy walked towards number two. They sat down on the front step.

"Yep, I went to get the mail this morning and there was a letter for you."

"Really?" Harry arched an eyebrow. He _never _received any letters. "Well, where is it?"

"That's it. Mum tore it up and burned it." Dudley shook his head. "It was weird. She told I wasn't allowed to tell you… and now I did."

"She _burned _my letter?"

"That's illegal, you know." Came Clarice's voice from inside. "Move away from the door, I have to get outside."

Clarice hair was in a ponytail and Harry knew she was going for a run as they let her pass.

"What do you mean, it's illegal?"

"Kids are entitled to their mail. She shouldn't have done that."

"You were listening in?" Dudley's mouth was wide open.

"I _always _listen Duddykins." Clarice smirked at the bigger boy. "If another letter comes for Harry, you should hide it from your mum."

Of course, what they didn't know was that it would prove to be much more difficult than that.

When Dudley crawled out of the window the next day, he had a bruise over his knuckles and he told Harry that his mother had rapped him over his fingers with the broom to make him let go of a letter.

"There was another one." He said. "The weird thing is, it knows where you stay when you're home, I mean, home at our place."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's addressed to the floor in my bedroom…"

They made a plan that day, but as it would turn out, it didn't work. Dudley was supposed to get up early and get the post before Aunt Petunia, but as he told Harry the next day, she was already up. She had been really mad too and it didn't help her mood when three letters arrived that morning, addressed to one Mr. Harry Potter.

That was the last day, Harry saw Dudley that week.

When Friday arrived, Aunt Petunia stayed home. He'd woken up to hear her scream, and when he went downstairs, he found Hannibal looking out of the kitchen window at number four.

"What's all that noise?" Harry asked as he rubbed his eyes.

"I'm not sure…" Hannibal said, fixing his tie. "I think your aunt is boarding up her door from the inside…"

"She has finally lost it." Clarice said as she came into the kitchen with a cup of coffee. She glared at Hannibal, as if it was all his fault and he quickly picked up his bag and headed for the door.

On Saturday morning, Harry decided to get up early and receive the post from the mailman himself. It didn't turn out the way he had hoped. The mailman looked at him like he was crazy and said that he hadn't delivered any letters addressed to someone called Harry Potter at number four Privet Drive. Harry was seriously starting to think that Dudley had lied, and he glared at number four as the milkman made his delivery to Aunt Petunia through the living room window. She closed the window quickly as she noticed him looking.

It was Sunday though, that things got out of hand. Hannibal had the day off and the small family was having breakfast when they heard a weird noise coming from next door. Harry glanced up from his scrambled eggs and looked out of the window. He had never seen anything like it.

"What the…"

Clarice's eyes had gone wide and Hannibal put down the paper he was reading to see what all the fuzz was about. Harry dropped his fork as he took in the sight of number four Privet Drive.

Dozens and dozens of owls were scattered over the roof and the front lawn in the early morning light. They swooped to the chimney one after one and a whooshing sound could be heard. The Fells watched with astonishment as the front door was thrown open and Dudley and Aunt Petunia ran out, covering their heads. She locked the door behind her and ran for the car.

Then they drove off.

"What the…" Clarice muttered again.

"Owls…" Hannibal picked up his paper and started reading again as if nothing unusual had happened.

"Where are they going." Harry was looking between Clarice and Hannibal as if they should have the answer.

"I have no idea dear Harry." Hannibal said, turning a page.

"We should go and check out the house…" Clarice looked like she was just as curious as Harry. The owls were slowly leaving and it looked like the coast was clear.

"Get dressed then." Hannibal said as he sipped his coffee. "Don't break any windows please…"

Harry was in his clothes faster than Hannibal could say "_Okey Dokey." _And he ended up waiting ten minutes for Clarice to join him. By the time they were outside, the morning mist had lifted but it still looked like it might rain. They walked around the house to the backyard where no one could see what they were doing. Clarice told him to stay low as they glanced in the backdoor. There was nothing to see, but as they reached the window to the living room, that opinion changed. The floor was covered with letters. Harry got his first glimpse of the infamous letter that Dudley had been going on about and he frowned as he realized that he couldn't get to it.

"I wonder who it's from…" Clarice mumbled over his shoulder.

"How did they all get in there?" Harry could see a pattern in the letters, all leading to the fireplace, but somehow it seemed very implausible that they should have come through there…

"I…" Clarice halted before she said another word and held a finger up to his lips. She motioned for him to follow. They crept along the house wall and Clarice practically pushed him through the hedge to their house. Harry was rather confused at this and he watched her warily as she stood still, listening to something on the other side of the hedge. Then, he heard it.

"There ya go Fang, Sniff it, yeah, good boy!" A deep voice sounded from the backyard of number four and Harry looked up, to see a man so tall that his head reached the gutter attached to the roof. The man didn't see them as they pressed themselves against the hedge, but the dog whined as he passed them.

"Wha' is it Fang?" Another whine and some scratching. "No, I ain't got no biscuits, now, find Harry Potter, will ya?"

Harry looked at Clarice, fright evident in his eyes as his heart skipped a beat. Why would the man be looking for him? Clarice hugged him close as the man went back around to the front yard.

"Letters are there all right, don't see no nobody home tho, do ya Fang?" There was a loud pop and then… silence.

Clarice and Harry waited several seconds before they heard the kitchen window open and Hannibal stick his head out with the morning paper still in hand.

"He's gone now."

Clarice breathed out in relief, but Harry felt no such thing. Why was the giant looking for him? His stepmother stood up and took him by the arm, leading him inside to the kitchen.

"We could have used some backup out there…" She mumbled angrily as she sat down in front of her husband.

"I didn't see you in any trouble, besides, that man wouldn't want to hurt Harry."

"He wouldn't?" Harry asked, thinking of the big man's arms and how they easily could crush his chest plate.

"No, I've seen him before."

"Is he one of them?" Clarice asked. Harry didn't know what they were talking about and his eyes narrowed.

"He's the one on the motorbike."

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Nothing Harry, eat some more breakfast." Hannibal said firmly as he put the paper aside.

"I don't _want _to eat more breakfast." Harry growled, pushing away his plate. "Who is he, and why is he sending me letters?"

"I do not know." Hannibal said articulately without showing any emotions. Harry pushed out his chair from the table and stood up as tall as he was, which quite frankly, wasn't very impressive.

"It was a lovely meal." He growled. "Now, please excuse me."

He knew that he wouldn't get in trouble for being angry, but if he didn't remember his manners… he didn't want to think about what might happen. He whirled around on his heels and left the room, hurrying up the stairs. They knew something and they wouldn't tell him! Who was that man and what was going on? Thoughts were filling up his head and he kicked the door to his bedroom shut behind him. He put his hands over his eyes as he felt the angry tears pressing. He wanted to know where Dudley had gone and it annoyed him to no end not knowing where he was. What if Aunt Petunia had taken him on vacation and not brought Harry? He had never been on a vacation after all… but then again, the hurried escape to the car this morning didn't sound very much like a vacation…

He dumped down on his bed and hid his head in his pillow.

Downstairs, Hannibal wasn't too happy either. Being told off by his wife was not one of his favorite activities and her tone was hurting his ears.

Somehow though, he was still able to hear the light knock on the front door.

Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

**A/N:  
Remember to review. Anything else would be rude. Don't want Hannibal coming after you, do we now?**

**Thanks to all those who've started following this story!**

**A short chapter, but we're keeping it in the style of the books and following it as close as possible :)**

**I hope you enjoyed it!**

**Firebolt**


	6. The Headmaster

**Disclaimer: Everything in here belongs to J.K. Rowling and Thomas Harris. Let them fight over what's what.**

**A/N: **

**Sorry for the long wait. Life got in the way.**

**Here's chapter six; I hope you enjoy it!**

Chapter Six

The Headmaster

_Downstairs, Hannibal wasn't too happy either. Being told off by his wife was not one of his favorite activities and her tone was hurting his ears. _

_Somehow though, he was still able to hear the light knock on the front door. _

_Someone was outside, knocking to come in. _

Hannibal lifted his hand to quiet Clarice, but her expression turned to one of indignation as she took a deep breath to start yelling at him. Before she could do so though, another knock could be heard. Clarice followed her husband's gaze towards the entrance and closed her mouth. They weren't expecting anyone…

They shared a look. Clarice nodded towards the door and Hannibal got up, walking gracefully through the kitchen and into the entrance hall. It was with a polite smile that he opened it.

Hannibal didn't even flinch in surprise as he saw the man outside.

On the threshold of number two Privet Drive stood the man known only by its residents as Dumbledore. His Hawaiian shirt was so colorful that Hannibal found himself averting his eyes from it to look at the man's bearded face. His blue eyes were hidden behind a pair of half-moon spectacles and he wore a wide smile that would have made Hannibal's face hurt.

"Hello" The man started. "I'm Professor Albus Dumbledore. You must be Dr. Fell, am I correct?"

"Indeed you are." Hannibal drawled. "How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Mr. Harry Potter."

He heard his wife's light footsteps as she joined them in the hall.

"Why would you be looking for him?" Her voice sounded as she curled her hand around Hannibal's arm, telling him that she was by his side.

"I'm the headmaster of a very prestigious school. Harry's name has been on our list from the day he was born. I'm simply here to ensure that he gets his acceptance letter." Professor Dumbledore explained kindly. "May I come in?"

"I'm…"

"Of course!" Hannibal spoke quickly as he cut off his wife. The sneer that had been in her voice told him that she hadn't been about to say anything nice. As they turned around and let the old man into their house, he whispered into her ear. "Don't be rude…"

They led him into the living room and the man seated himself in an armchair without being told to, looking around the room and taking in the extensive number of pictures. Most of them showed Harry but a few had all three of them together.

"Can I get you anything?" Hannibal asked.

"Oh no, I'm perfectly fine." He told them kindly. It was starting to annoy Hannibal that the man was so likeable when he'd done nothing to deserve it so far. Dr. Fell seated himself on the couch and Clarice joined him a moment later. She looked edgy and he knew that she was prepared for anything. The old man glanced at the nearest picture. "Does Harry come here often?"

"He has been living here most of the time since his uncle died when he was five." Hannibal spoke, trying to look less pleased at his words than he actually was. He noticed how Dumbledore kept looking at his eyes and Hannibal looked right back.

"I see." The old man spoke, finally looking away. Hannibal smirked.

"Why are you here?" Clarice spoke, trying to sound civilized.

"Ah yes." The man's eyes twinkled. "I'd like to speak with Harry if it could be possible?"

"He's upstairs…"

"No I'm not." Harry's light voice sounded from the entrance to the living room. His eyes were on the old man in the couch as he walked into the room. Without a smile, he extended his hand to the smiling man and said politely. "Hello, I'm Harry Potter."

Dumbledore shook his hand. "And I'm Professor Albus Dumbledore. Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Hogwarts…?" The boy sounded skeptic as he raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yes. It's quite a lovely name if you ask me."

"Quite…" Harry spoke and looked at Hannibal who wore the same expression of distaste.

"I'm here with your acceptance letter. I hope you'll consider the school. Your parents were students there too. Quite talented."

"My parents…?"

Hannibal noticed how the distaste left Harry's voice and he felt something heavy land in his stomach. Beside him, Clarice shifted in her seat.

"Yes, James and Lily Potter. They were friends of mine."

"Really?"

"Yes." The man's eyes twinkled and Hannibal looked away. Why did he feel so bad about this?

"What kind of school is it?" Harry asked with curiosity.

"It's a school for magic."

The room became eerily quiet at the man's words. Harry pursed his lips and Hannibal was immediately reminded of his aunt. What he felt though, was completely different. Magic… It would explain quite a lot.

"There's no such thing as magic." Harry spoke, casting a nervous glance at his stepparents.

"Of course there is." Dumbledore said with a smile as he withdrew a stick from his sleeve. Harry followed it with his eyes as the man flicked in the air. Without a sound, the coffee table suddenly leaped a foot into the air and hovered there. All three of them were watching it transfixed and Hannibal felt Clarice reach out for his hand. The old man spoke. "You're a wizard Harry."

"No I'm not…" Harry said quietly as the table landed on the floor in front of him.

"Of course you are Harry."

Hannibal turned his head to Clarice as she spoke the words and she glanced between them nervously. Both Harry and Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

"Think about it." She said. "Harry is constantly doing weird and impossible things. The glass in the zoo, the shirts that get too small, his hair and not to forget that he hardly ever gets hurt and if he does; he heals up in no time…"

Hannibal remained quiet at her words, knowing the truth of them even before she spoke them.

"Did you know?" Harry asked, looking at them as they sat in the couch. Hannibal shook his head.

"I knew that you were special, but even I couldn't fathom the extent of it. The evidence was there but…" Hannibal held onto his wife's hand.

"The evidence?" Harry bit his lip.

Hannibal looked at the old man in the couch and decided to tell the truth. It couldn't hurt. "I was there when Professor Dumbledore left you at your Aunt's house. I heard… certain things… but I didn't believe a word of it."

If Dumbledore was surprised, he didn't show it, but he wasn't smiling anymore as he watched the couple on the couch in front of him.

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"It was something about your parents." Hannibal looked the young boy in the eyes as he spoke. "They had been killed that night by a man named Voldemort."

Harry remained quiet as he tried to detect a lie in Hannibal's voice. When he didn't hear one, he looked at his shoes instead. "oh…"

"I'm afraid that he's speaking the truth." Dumbledore said with a frown. "The Wizarding World was at war. It was a dark time Harry… Your parents were fighting for the light side when Lord Voldemort decided to kill them. He was a wizard who decided to do evil instead of good. He had a number of followers and they spread terror in their wake. His power was immense and it looked like he might be winning the war when he suddenly disappeared. It was the night when he killed your parents. You're the only one who has survived being hit by the killer curse and when you add the fact that it looks like he was killed… you became quite famous Harry…"

"Me…?"

Hannibal felt Clarice let go of his hand as she rose from the couch and walked over to Harry who was still standing in the middle of the room. She hugged him close and Harry stared into thin air as he placed his arms around her neck.

"Yes Harry." Dumbledore kept talking, avoiding his eyes as he felt it was a private moment for them. "People believe that you defeated him. I decided it was best to place you with your family amongst muggles…"

"Muggles?" Hannibal asked as Harry remained quiet, holding onto Clarice.

"Non-magical people."

"You say that people _believed _that Harry had defeated him. What really happened?" Hannibal wasn't quite convinced by the old man's story. There seemed to be quite a lot of holes in it.

"No one knows." The old man said. Hannibal drew air in through his nose as he watched Dumbledore. He was certain that the old man was lying. "I believe he'll return one day and attempt to return to his former glory."

"How come no one has told me this before?" Harry asked with his chin on Clarice's shoulder. There was hurt in his eyes.

"I hoped that your aunt would have told you some of it. I tend to have too much faith in people."

Hannibal watched as Harry pouted and he felt something move in his stomach. Mrs. Dursley had really gone and done it this time. They were silent for a moment as they took in all the information. Clarice leaned away from Harry and stroke his cheek affectionately, earning a small smile in return. Hannibal couldn't help but smile as well, but it quickly dropped as he noticed Dumbledore watching. The old man withdrew an envelope from a pocket in his shirt that looked far too small and Harry's eyes landed on it immediately.

"That's my letter!"

"Indeed it is Harry." Dumbledore said kindly. "I think it's in due time that you get it."

Harry stepped away from Clarice and took the letter out of the old man's hand. He read the inscription on the front with wonder. How could they know where he stayed when he was at his aunt's home? The green ink read; _Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Dudley's Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey._

It was with his heart in his throat that Harry opened the letter and read its contents:

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, _

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonnagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Harry's mouth felt quite dry as he finished reading it. He had more questions than he'd ever had in his life and he had no idea of where to start. He lifted his head and looked at Hannibal and Clarice, who were now both seated in the couch again. He had no idea what they were thinking, but it reassured him that they hadn't fled the room.

"What do they mean by owl?" Harry finally found it in himself to ask the old man in the armchair.

"Owls are our primary way of communicating long-distance, but you don't have to send the school a message. If you accept now, my knowledge of it will be sufficient." He had that twinkle in his eyes that made Harry feel better instantaneously. It was weird… He glanced at his parents on the couch. Should he accept? Didn't he need their permission or something? When he thought about it; he did think that he would more likely need Aunt Petunia's permission…

"I have to ask Aunt Petunia first, right? She's my guardian or something…" Harry said with a low voice. Somehow, he doubted that she would let him go. She _had _already bought his Stonewall uniform after all…

"All we need is your word." Dumbledore spoke with a small smile. "We'll convince your aunt that letting you go is the best thing."

Harry had taken out the second piece of paper from the envelope and as he quickly scanned the content, he felt his heart sink.

"This is a joke right?" He said with a sneer as he temper rose. "You can't buy these things anywhere."

"You can, if you know where to look."

Harry raised an eyebrow at his words and remained quiet, urging him to keep talking. They didn't do half information and stupidity in this house. It was with a sigh that the old man opened his mouth to speak.

"There's a hidden street in central London called Diagon Alley that can only be found by magical people. If you wish, I'll send someone to accompany you tomorrow."

"I can manage on my own thank you very much." Harry said coldly. He wasn't quite satisfied with the answer. "Where is it?"

Dumbledore withdrew a piece of paper from his shirt pocket that shouldn't really be able to contain anything at all and he pointed his stick at it. His lips parted involuntarily in amazement as he saw words appear on it out of nowhere. Harry accepted the note from the old man and memorized the words immediately.

"You'll find it at this address. Now, remember, your paren…" He glanced at the couple on the couch. "Dr. and Mrs. Fell won't be able to see the entrance and might act a bit confused by the location, but all you have to do is take their hands and lead them inside. Once past the door, they'll be perfectly fine. It's a pub called the Leaky Cauldron."

"Got it." Harry said, pocketing the note.

"Can I expect to see you at school start?" Professor Dumbledore asked kindly despite Harry's obvious mistrust.

"I suppose so… Where is the school exactly?" He asked, suddenly remembering the most important part of all.

"Ah yes, my apologies. My mind tends to wander sometimes. I suspect my age might be catching up with me." He chuckled in a way that reminded Harry strongly of the Doctor from Dudley's favorite Tv –Show; The Simpsons. The Fells all smiled politely which was something they had perfected through the years. Dumbledore withdrew another small slip of paper from his shirt pocket and gave it to Harry. "This is your train ticket. Now, the train leaves at eleven o'clock precisely, so don't be late. The train departs from Kings Cross station, platform 9 ¾. The entrance is invisible to muggles, so you'll have to help Dr. and Mrs. Fell if they want to see you off. You won't be able to see it either. You have to walk through the wall between platforms nine and ten. It can be scary, but just keep walking through the wall. Don't hesitate."

"What do we do if we have any question?" Clarice asked from the couch.

"There will be plenty of wizards and witches, both at the pub and on the train station. I have yet to see a student who didn't find their way to the school somehow." Dumbledore said with the twinkle in his eyes that made Harry want to hug him, which quite frankly was not something he did very often to anyone.

"I think we know everything we need to know." Hannibal said as he rose from the couch. Harry knew that his father just wanted the old man out of the house.

"Could I speak with Harry alone for a moment?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

Hannibal hesitated as he looked between them. He nodded stiffly and said; "We'll be in the kitchen if you need us."

Harry knew that they didn't like leaving him alone with a strange man and he saw Clarice glance over her shoulder worriedly as she closed the door to the living room behind her.

"Please sit down Harry."

He did as he was bid and not once did he think it was weird to be asked to sit down in his own house. He sat down on the couch, facing Dumbledore

"How long have you been living here?" He asked with a light smile.

"Since I was five. I can hardly remember living with my aunt and uncle…."

"It was quite tragic… your uncle was kind to take you in." Dumbledore said.

"Quite." Harry didn't particularly like to talk about his uncle. He couldn't really remember much about him, but he remembered being scared and cold. It was weird, but he brushed it off and felt much better.

"Do you like it here?"

"Yes, they're my parents." Harry was starting to understand what the conversation was about and he didn't like it one bit. "They treat me really well and they have been nothing but good to me, if that's what you're asking about."

"You're quite smart, aren't you?" His words seemed to amuse Dumbledore more than offend him. Could this man even get mad?

"Not as smart as Hannibal. Clarice says he's a real genius."

"A real genius?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "And he works at the hospital?"

"Yes, he says he likes to help people."

"I understand that." The old man said with a smile. "How often do you see your _real _family?"

"Every day of course." Harry spoke, not liking his way of saying it. "But I don't know where they are right now though… Besides, Hannibal and Clarice are my _real _family."

"I'm sorry if I offended you."

"It's okay." Harry said as he heard the man's genuine apology. "People get confused sometimes because I call them Hannibal and Clarice mostly."

"I can imagine." The old man rose from his seat. "I think it's time I leave. Now, Diagon Alley is open tomorrow from 9 am to 6 pm. It usually takes a few hours to purchase all the items. You have to enter Gringotts Wizarding Bank to withdraw money. I'll say that you need approximately 30 galleons. Here's the key to your parents' vault."

"Galleons? They have a different currency?" Harry asked skeptically as he received a heavy, gold key in his hand. "What's the idea of that?"

"I've asked myself that many times my boy." He said as he went to the door. "It just shows how independent the Wizarding World wishes to be from the muggle one."

Harry didn't quite understand what the Headmaster meant by that comment and it would be years before he thought about it again. They found Hannibal and Clarice waiting quietly in the kitchen. They smiled as they saw him and he knew that they'd overheard everything. It was impossible to keep a secret from them. They bid the old man goodbye and Harry gaped as he disappeared into thin air right in front of them. Hannibal didn't even react.

The day quickly passed though as the small family discussed all the new information. Curiosity seemed to be the most dominating emotion. You'd think that shock or wonder would fill more, but it was as if they'd always know. They talked animatedly through dinner but it wasn't long before the late, summer sun started to descent.

It didn't take long for Harry to go to bed and by the time that he was fast asleep, Clarice and Hannibal followed. They were lying awake in their bed though, talking quietly.

"Magic, huh?" Clarice said, gazing into Hannibal's eyes.

"We always knew that he was special." He was smiling as he reached out and stroke the side of her face.

"Our special, little boy…" Clarice whispered.

A moment of silence passed between them as they became lost in each other's' eyes. Hannibal leaned in and kissed her soft lips, feeling the heat from her body as he drew her closer.

How he loved to see her happy.

**A/N:**

**I hope you liked this chapter!**

**I'm not going to make Dumbledore into a villain. The Fells are simply very skeptical and untrusting of outsiders by nature. They will warm up to him eventually.**

**Some of you might have guessed that Dumbledore tried to use legilimency on Hannibal, but if you're in doubt; it didn't work. Hannibal has full control over his thoughts and memories. Dumbledore wouldn't find anything in his mind unless Hannibal was specifically pushing it to the forefront.**

**Did Harry's refusal of company to Diagon Alley remind you of anyone? I'm sure Dumbledore drew the parallel. **

**Till next time!**

**Firebolt**


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